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THE    MOOSE  (Alces  Americanus). 


WOODS  AND  LAKES 


OF 


MAINE 


A    TRIP    FROM     MOOSEHEAD     LAKE     TO 
NEW    BRUNSWICK 

IN   A   BIRCH-BARK    CANOE 

TO   WHICH   ARE   ADDED 

SOME  INDIAN   PLACE-NAMES  AND    THEIR  MEANINGS 
NOW  FIRST  PUBLISHED 

BY   LUCIUS   L.   HUBBARD 

COMPILER  OF  "  HUBBARD'S  GUIDE  TO  MOOSEHEAD  LAKE  AND  NORTHERN  MAINE" 


anti  ©rfflfnal  Kllustratfons 
BY  WILL  L.  TAYLOR 

SECOND    EDITION,    REVISED 


BOSTON 
TICKNOR    AND    COMPANY 

211  Fremont  .Street 

to 


Copyright,  1883, 
BY  Lucius  L.  HUBBARD. 


All  rights  reserved. 


(Eambrtoge : 

PRINTED    BY    JOHN    WILSON    AND    SON, 
UNIVERSITY     PRESS. 


Co 


FROM   WHOM    HE   DREW   THE    LOVE   OF   NATURE    THAT   IN 
HIM    LIVES, 

THE    WRITER 
AFFECTIONATELY     DEDICATES 

i0  3300ft. 


M 132515 


PREFACE 

TO    THE    SECOND    EDITION. 


I~N  offering  to  the  public  the  second  edition  of  "  Woods 
and  Lakes  of  Maine,"  the  author  makes  his  sincere 
acknowledgments  for  the  generous  meed  of  praise  be- 
stowed upon  the  first  edition  by  the  press,  for  the  many 
kind  words  of  approval  given  by  personal  friends,  and 
for  the  unexpected,  and  hence  all  the  more  gratifying 
testimonials  received  from  utter  strangers.  These  are 
an  ample  reward  for  his  labor,  and  are  the  best  evidence 
that  he  had  attained  his  object,  —  that  of  keeping  fresh 
in  the  minds  of  his  readers  pleasant  memories  of  their 
out-door  life.  He  is  thus  led  to  hope  that  this  new 
and  revised  edition  will  find  favor  equally  with  the 
other,  at  least  among  those  whose  privilege  it  is,  at  some 
season  of  the  year,  to  commune  with  Nature  in  the 
wild  recesses  of  the  forest. 

BOSTON,  May,  1888. 


INTRODUCTION. 


TT  had  been  the  writer's  wish  for  several  years  to  give 
to  the  public  a  true  and  circumstantial  delineation 
of  the  camper's  life  in  the  Maine  forests,  especially  as 
seen  by  one  who  goes  into  them  with  an  Indian  guide. 
The  gratification  of  this  wish  was  not  possible  until 
the  autumn  of  1881,  at  which  time  it  was  the  writer's 
good  fortune  to  be  accompanied  on  his  annual  excursion 
into  the  woods  by  the  friend  to  whose  brush  the  illus- 
trations in  the  following  pages  are  due.  The  tendency 
to  sacrifice  literalness  and  accuracy  to  artistic  effect  pre- 
vails to  a  great  extent  to-day  among  professional  illus- 
trators. Moreover,  they  do  their  work  principally  in 
the  studio,  from  photographic  material,  it  may  be,  and 
often  have  to  draw  on  their  imaginations  to  fill  up  gaps 
here  and  there,  or  to  supply  some  deficiency  left  by  the 
camera.  Their  pictures  of  forest  life,  therefore,  are  apt 
to  convey,  if  not  an  incorrect  impression,  at  least  an  in- 
harmonious or  incomplete  one,  lacking  color  and  reality, 
detail  and  finish,  qualities  the  ability  to  produce  which 


viii  INTEODUCTION. 

can  only  be  acquired  by  seeking  Nature  in  her  wildest 
haunts,  and  drinking  at  the  fountain-head. 

The  excursion  above  referred  to  has  been  made  the 
groundwork  of  the  accompanying  text,  and  a  few  ex- 
periences and  observations  borrowed  from  other  excur- 
sions of  the  writer  have  been  introduced  to  make  the 
work  more  comprehensive,  and,  it  is  hoped,  more  inter- 
esting as  well.  While  no  attempt  at  exhaustiveness  has 
been  made,  the  writer's  aim  has  been  to  introduce  largely 
such  features  of  forest  life  as  he  had  not  happened  to 
see  treated  before  in  print. 

It  must  not  for  a  moment  be  supposed  that  the  doings 
and  sayings  of  the  writer's  friend  and  companion  are 
herein  literally  portrayed.  A  foreground  was  wanted, 
to  complete  the  picture,  which  should  be  in  contrast  with 
the  subdued  tones  produced  by  the  usually  dull  routine 
of  camp  life ;  and  accordingly  a  mythical  character  was 
evoked,  who  should  consent  to  play  the  clown,  and  to 
be  laughed  at  for  his  wit  or  his  stupidity,  as  occasion 
might  require. 

Another  reason  for  this  publication  besides  the  one 
offered  above  is  the  writer's  wish  to  make  known  a 
number  of  Indian  place-names,  and  several  legendary 
traditions,  which  he  has  gathered  from  Indian  sources 
during  his  vacation  rambles  through  Maine.  The  grow- 
ing interest  manifested  of  late  in  this  subject  leads  him 
to  think  that  the  publication  of  these  names  and  their 


INTKODUCTIOK  ix 

significations,  although  in  the  latter  no  pretension  is  made 
to  philological  precision  and  fulness,  may  be  received  with 
favor,  and  may  lead  to  more  thorough  researches  in  the 
same  direction  by  others.  The  translations  (in  many 
cases  merely  explanations)  of  the  Indian  names,  as  given 
in  the  foot-notes,  have  been  derived,  principally  if  not 
wholly,  from  the  Indians  themselves,  and  generally  in  the 
very  words  quoted.  In  the  Appendix  an  attempt  has 
been  made  to  enlarge  somewhat  the  sphere  to  which  the 
writer  limited  himself  in  the  text,  by  comparison,  as  well 
as  by  analysis,  the  latter  often  fragmentary  to  be  sure, 
and  sometimes  offered  with  diffidence. 

The  accompanying  map,  although  a  few  copies  of  it 
have  been  heretofore  published,  was  revised  especially 
for  this  book,  and  contains  with  but  two  exceptions  all 
the  Indian  names  of  places  herein  referred  to  that  lie 
within  the  district  covered  by  it. 

That  our  wild  forests,  and  the  lakes  and  streams  which 
fill  their  basins  and  crevices,  as  it  were,  contain  a  vast 
fund  for  man  to  draw  on,  a  fund  of  all  that  is  precious 
to  health  and  recreation,  and  an  inexhaustible  mine  for 
study  and  investigation,  needs  no  argument.  In  sub- 
ordinating to  these  opportunities  for  pleasure  the  more 
exciting  sports  of  forest  life,  the  writer  would  not  be 
understood  as  decrying  or  detracting  from  the  latter. 
He  would  merely  give  deserved  pre-eminence  to  that 
more  lasting  pleasure,  of  drawing  from  Nature  the  boun- 


X  INTEODUCTIOK 

ties  which  she  offers  in  profusion,  of  learning  to  read 
her  stones,  her  leaves  and  blossoms,  and  of  forming  a 
nearer  kinship  with  the  wild  offspring  that  swim  in  her 
waters  or  roam  through  her  groves.  He  has  touched 
lightly  upon  these  boundless  themes,  and  if  his  words 
shall  bring  pleasure  to  any  who  have  trodden  the  path 
before  him,  or  incite  others  to  follow,  his  reward  will 
be  ample. 

CAMBRIDGE,  MASS.,  1883. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

MOOSEHEAD    LAKE.  —  ITS    LOCATION.  —  ALTITUDE.  —  EXTENT. 

DEPTH. — INDIAN  NAME. — LEGENDS. — MODERN  NAME. — MOUNT 
KINEO.  —  SPENCER  MOUNTAINS.  —  INDIAN  FIGHTS.  —  INDIAN 
PLACE-NAMES 17 

CHAPTER  II. 

PASSAGE  OVER  MOOSEHEAD. — OUR  PARTY. — JOE  AND  SILAS. — 
NORTHEAST  CARRY.  —  OLD  TRAMWAY.  —  FIRST  WHIFF  OF  FOR- 
EST AIR.  —  WEST  BRANCH  OF  THE  PENOBSCOT.  —  LOBSTER  LAKE. 
—  MOONLIGHT  REVERIES 30 


CHAPTER  III. 

PENOBSCOT  VALLEY.  —  RAPIDS.  —  FIRST  MORNING  IN  CAMP.  — 
BREAKING  CAMP.  —  "  PITCHING  "  AND  LOADING  CANOE.  —  A 
CARIBOU.  —  MEASURING  DISTANCES.  —  Fox  HOLE. — A  MESS  OF 
TROUT.  —  A  MISHAP.  —  REFLECTIONS.  —  RUNNING  RAPIDS.  — 
A  FIFTH  PASSENGER.  —  SQUIRRELS 41 


CHAPTER  IV. 

PREPARATIONS  FOR  NIGHT.  —  THE  CAPTAIN'S  OPINION  ON  CAMPING. 
— A  MISTY  MORNING.  —  CHESUNCOOK. — UP  THE  UMBAZOOKSKUS. 
—  SMITH'S  "  JUMPER.  "  —  ITS  EFFECT  ON  MOOSEHEAD  GUIDES.  — 
MAKING  A  PORTAGE.  —  MUD  POND  CARRY.  —  NATIVE  MODESTY  .  58 


xii  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  V. 

PAGE 

BLACK-DUCKS.  —  A  MUSKRAT  HOUSE.  —  THE  MUSKRAT  AS  A  PET. 
—  CHAMBERLAIN  FARM.  —  APMOOJENEGAMOOK.  —  INTO  PONGOK- 
WAHEMOOK.  —  EVIDENCES  OF  ILLEGAL  HUNTING.  —  SOME  RE- 
FLECTIONS ON  GAME  PROTECTION  AND  THE  GAME  LAWS  .  72 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE  LOON  CONSIDERED  MUSICALLY  AND  OTHERWISE.  —  CAMP  ON 
NAHMAJIMSKITEGWEK. — HORNETS  AND  MAPLE-SUGAR.  —  VISIT- 
ORS. —  AN  EXCURSION  TO  HAYMOCK  LAKE.  —  ROUGH  WATER.  — 
ALLAGASKWIGAMOOK.  —  THROUGH  THE  BREAKERS.  —  GUIDES.  — 
INDIANS  vs.  WHITES  86 


CHAPTER   VII. 

THE  INDIAN  PACK.  —  How  TO  GET  OVER  A  CARRY.  —  AN  ARTIST  IN 
THE  AIR.  • —  THROUGH  TO  ALLAGASKWIGAMOOKSIS.  —  IN  CAMP. 
—  ACQUAINTANCE  WITH  THE  CHUBS.  —  LOST  IN  THE  WOODS.  — 
MAHKLICONGOMOC. — CARRYING  CANOE.  —  CANVAS  vs.  BIRCH  101 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

PINE  FORESTS. — A  CARIBOU.  —  ANOTHER  DISAPPOINTMENT.  —  HOR- 
NETS vs.  FLIES.  —  THE  BEAVER.  —  His  GENERAL  APPEARANCE. 
—  DISTURBING  A  "  BACHELOR."  —  THE  BEAVER'S  HABITS.  —  His 
DAMS.  —  MECHANICAL  SKILL.  —  WARINESS 118 


CHAPTER  IX. 

BEAVER  LODGES.  —  THEIR  COMPOSITION  AND  CONSTRUCTION.  - 
BEAVER  CUTTINGS.  —  CAMP  ON  MEGKWAKANGAMOCSIS.  —  HIGH- 
LOW-JACK.  —  REST.  —  SKETCHING  BY  MOONLIGHT.  —  COLD  WEA- 
THER. —  JOE'S  ENGLISH.  —  BAKED  BEANS.  —  A  BEAVER  BOG. 
—  CAUTION 


CONTENTS.  xiii 


CHAPTER   X. 

PAGE 

MOONLIGHT  ON  THE  BOG.  —  MOOSE-CALLING.  —  AN  ANSWER.  — 
A  BIG  BULL.  —  THE  MOOSE-BIRD.  —  MOOSE  AND  CARIBOU 
TRACKS.  —  ANTLERS.  —  BEAVER  MEAT.  —  BIRCH  BARK  AND  ITS 
USES.  —  A  BIRCHEN  AGE  .  147 


CHAPTER   XI. 

ON  TO  MUSQUACOOK.  —  MINK.  —  MUD  LAKE.  —  THE  GUIDES  LEAVE 
CAMP  IN  QUEST  OF  FOOD.  —  SPECTRAL  LIGHT.  —  APPREHENSIONS. 
-  RETURN    OF    THE    GUIDES.  —  Low  WATER.  —  SHOEING    THE 
CANOES.  —  SNOW.  —  INSUBORDINATION.  —  BLACK   CAT  164 


CHAPTER  XII. 

AMONG  THE  BOULDERS.  —  SPIRIT  OF  THE  RAPIDS.  —  CAMPING 
AFTER  DARK.  —  THE  ALLAGASH.  —  TWELVE  MILES  OR  No 
SUPPER.  —  FOREST  FIRES.  —  MOIR'S.  —  ALLAGASH  FALLS.  — 
TOW-BOATS.  —  ST.  JOHN  RIVER.  —  SIGHTS  ALONG  THE  WAY.  — 
RETROSPECT 175 


APPENDIX. 

I.   INDIAN  PLACE-NAMES 191 

II.   CROSS-INDEX  TO  INDIAN  NAMES 215 

III.  SHORAGE  OF  MOOSEHEAD  LAKE 217 

IV.  SOUNDINGS  IN  MOOSEHEAD  LAKE 219 

V.   TELOS  CANAL  .  221 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 

ENGRAVED  BY  JOHN  ANDREW  &  SON. 

PAGE 

THE  MOOSE Frontispiece 

POLING  UP  THE  EAPIDS 21 

SILAS 32 

READY  FOB  THE  STAKT 40 

"PITCHING"  THE  CANOE 44 

LUNCH  BY  THE  WAY 50 

COMING  DOWN  THE  RAPIDS 53 

UP  THE  UMBAZOOKSKUS 63 

BOUND  FOR  MUD  POND 71 

MOUTH  OF  NAHMAJTMSKITEGWEK 79 

AMONG  THE  WHITE-CAPS 93 

JOE  MAKING  A  PACK 102 

A  HEAVY  LOAD 107 

CARRYING  A  CANOE 113 

BEAVER  DAM 125 

BEAVER  LODGE  . 135 


XVI  LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE 

BEAVER  MEADOW  ON  MEGKWAKAGAMOCSIS 145 

CALLING  MOOSE 155 

NORTHERN  LIGHTS  ON  MUSQUACOOK 166 

HUNTER'S  CABIN 173 

THE  SOCIAL  HOUR 183 

MAP  OF  FARM  ISLAND  BASIN,  MOOSEHEAD  LAKE      ....  220 


WOODS  AND   LAKES  OF  MAINE. 


CHAPTER   I. 

MOOSEHEAD  LAKE.  —  ITS  LOCATION.  —  ALTITUDE.  —  EXTENT.  — 
DEPTH.  —  INDIAN  NAME.  —  LEGENDS.  —  MODERN  NAME.  — 
MOUNT  KINEO.  —  SPENCER  MOUNTAINS.  —  INDIAN  EIGHTS.  — 
INDIAN  PLACE-NAMES. 

"A  /TOOSEHEAD  LAKE,  the  largest  of  two  or  three 
thousand  lakes  and  ponds  with  which  the  State 
of  Maine  is  dotted,  lies  just  above  the  west  central  por- 
tion of  the  State,  approximately  between  parallels  45° 
25'  and  45°  50',  and  meridians  69°  30'  and  69°  48',  and 
is  a  vast  reservoir,  whose  waters  are  used  extensively  to 
float  to  market  the  yearly  timber  product  of  the  Ken- 
nebec  valley,  and  to  furnish  motive  power  to  the  many 
mills  along  the  river's  course.  The  lake,  according  to 
barometrical  computations1  made  by  the  writer  in  1881, 
is  995  feet  above  mean  tide,  while  according  to  other 
estimates  made  during  the  present  century  its  altitude 
is  variously  stated  to  be  between  960  and  1060  feet. 

1  From  eight  observations,  made  on  three  successive  days  in  August,  si- 
multaneously with  observations  at  Orono  by  President  M.  F.  Fernald  of  the 
Maine  State  College. 

2 


18  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

From  Greenville,  a  small  village  at  its  foot,  and  the  only 
one  on  its  shores,  the  lake  extends  some  thirty-six  miles 
to  the  north;  and  varies  in  width  from  194  rods,  oppo- 
site Kineo  Promontory  where  the  telegraph-cable  crosses, 
to  about  twelve  miles,  the  distance  from  the  east  or  prin- 
cipal outlet  to  the  head  of  Spencer  Bay.  Its  outline  is 
remarkably  irregular,  and  readily  suggests  the  ravines 
and  other  depressions  between  bits  of  high  ground,  up 
into  which  a  stream,  checked  by  a  barrier  of  Nature's 
sudden  interposition,  might  -have  flowed  back,  turning 
former  ponds  into  bays,  and  making  islands  of  hills  and 
promontories  of  ridges.  The  area  of  the  lake  is  said 
to  be  120  square  miles,1  and  its  shore  line  at  high  water 
about  400  miles ;  but  these  latter  figures  are  evidently 
much  too  large.2 

Fabulous  stories  have  been  told  of  its  depth,  princi- 
pally on  the  authority  of  men  who  have  towed  logs  over 
its  surface,  and  their  measurements  vary  from  five  hun- 
dred to  a  thousand  feet,  the  latter  depth  being  claimed 
between  Farm  Island  and  the  Shaw  Place  east  of  it. 
Seventy-five  soundings  made  by  the  writer  in  1881 
and  1882  failed  to  disclose  a  greater  depth  than  231 
feet.  The  character  of  these  soundings  was  such  as 
to  make  it  probable  that  in  the  middle  parts  of  the 
lake  the  bottom  is  uniformly  level.  The  inclination  of 
the  bottom  from  either  shore  to  the  middle  parts  is  not 
alike  on  all  sides,  the  descent  being,  in  some  places, 
very  gradual,  while  in  others  it  is  quite  rapid.3  The 

1  Wells's  Water  Power  of  Maine,  (Augusta,  1869,)  p.  98. 

2  See  Appendix  III.  8  See  Appendix  IV. 


MOOSEHEAD   LAKE.  19 

only  theory  on  which  the  existence  of  these  reported 
depths  can  rest  is,  that  there  are  isolated  holes  or  narrow 
rifts  in  the  underlying  rock;  a  theory  that  seems  quite 
improbable,  as  the  ceaseless  movement  of  the  waters  and 
the  accumulations  from  incoming  streams  during  ages 
past  must  long  ago  have  filled  any  such  places,  if  they 
ever  did  exist. 

The  name  by  which  Moosehead  Lake  is  known  to  the 
Penobscot  Indians  is  Xsebem,  while  to  that  remnant  of 
the  Abnakis  that  have  lived  at  St.  Francis  it  is  Sebam'ook, 
either  of  which  is  freely  translated  by  "  extending  water," 
the  second  form  having  the  locative  ending.1  On  John 
Mitchell's  Map  of  North  America,  published  in  1755, 
Moosehead  Lake  is  called  Chenbesec  L.  The  application 
of  this  name  was  probably  made  by  mistake  to  Moose- 
head  Lake  instead  of  to  Chesuncook  Lake,  and  two 
facts  strengthen  this  probability.  First,  the  Indians  of 
to-day  have  no  form  of  word  like  it  for  the  first-named 
lake,  but  unite  in  giving  other  names  which  inter  sese 
are  practically  identical,  in  meaning  at  least.  Secondly, 
on  Governor  Pownall's  map,  published  in  1776,  Chesun- 
cook is  called  Clwnosbec.  The  three  forms  Chenbesec., 
ChenosbeCy  and  Chesuncook  are  probably  variations  of 
one  word.  According  to  the  Penobscot  Indians,2  Chesun- 
cook means  "the  biggest  lake"  (i.e.  on  the  Penobscot); 
but  the  word  has  thus  far  apparently  defied  all  attempts 

1  A  St.  Francis  Indian  once  told  the  writer  that  Xsebem'  would  naturally 
and  properly  be  the  exclamation  of  one  of  his  tribe  when,  going  through  the 
forest,  he  should  suddenly  see  light  ahead  through  the  trees,  and  the  sheen 
from  an  open  body  of  water.     Cf.  toasseghen  (Rale's  Abnaki  Dictionary). 

2  John  Pennowit  and  others.     See  Appendix,  Indian  Place-Names. 


20  WOODS  AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

by  Indian  scholars  at  analysis,  unless  its  middle  com- 
ponent, sunc,  be  the  equivalent  of  sank,  "  an  outlet,"  in 
which  case  the  meaning  is  "  great  outlet  place."  Again, 
on  Pownall's  map,  a  lake  much  smaller  than  Chenosbec, 
but  with  a  large  island  in  the  centre,  and  evidently  meant 
for  Moosehead  Lake,  is  called  L.  Sebaim.  On  Andrew 
Dury's  Atlas,  published  in  London  in  1761,  on  Sayer  and 
Bennet's  map,1  published  in  1776,  and  on  that  of  Thomas 
Jefferys,  published  in  1778,  the  same  lake  is  called  Kese- 
~ben.  Sebaim.,  Keseben,  and  the  more  modern  Xsebem',  or 
Sebam'(ook),  may  safely  be  said  to  be  identical.  The  form 
nearest  them  appearing  as  a  substantival  component  in 
Maine  place-names  is  peguasebem  (Kale)  or  quasabam, 
"  lake."  The  absence  of  any  of  the  forms  of  Xsebemf  as 
a  distinctive  name  for  any  other  body  of  water  in  that 
State  furnishes  very  good  evidence  that  it  was  not  sim- 
ply a  generic  term,  but  was  in  and  of  itself  a  name  given 
by  the  Indians  specifically  to  Moosehead,  and  so  under- 
stood by  former  map-makers.2 

The    origin    of   the   name    Moosehead   Lake   is  prob- 
ably due  to  one  of   several   old   Indian   legends,  which 

1  Map  of  the  Province  of  Quebec,  according  to  the  Royal  Proclamation 
of  1763. 

2  Just  when  the  present  English  name  of  the  lake  was  first  used  does  not 
appear.      On  Jay's  map,  published  in   1786,  we  find  it  called  Moose  Lake, 
and  on  plans  of  more  recent  date  we  find  Seboumook  (Greenleaf's  map),  Se~ 
baumock,  Seebommock,  Seeboumock,  and  Seboumock.      (See  Plan  Books,  B.  1, 
PI.  27,  B.  2,  PI.  9,  B.  7,  PL  42  and  57,  1814-15,  Land  Office,  Augusta.)     Sul- 
livan calls  it  "Moose  Pond  or   Moose   Lake"    (History  of   the  District  of 
Maine,  Boston,  1795,  p.  33).      Montresor  called  the  lake  "Orignal,"  which 
is  the  French  for  "moose."     The  statement  in  the  text  should  be  taken  in 
connection  with  the  explanation  under  "  Sebec  "  in  the  Appendix. 


MOOSEHEAD   LAKE.  23 

associate  the  place  with  adventures  in  which  the  moose 
bore  a  prominent  part.  One  of  these  traditions  says  that 
"  in  the  olden  time  men  and  animals  grew  to  an  immense 
size.  The  Indians  thought  the  moose  were  too  large,  and 
sent  a  hunter  to  make  them  smaller.  He  killed  a  big 
bull,  Kineo  Mountain,  and  reduced  his  size  by  cutting 
slices  from  his  body.  The  rock  at  the  foot  of  the  moun- 
tain to-day  looks  like  steak ;  streaks  of  lean  and  fat  can 
be  plainly  seen  in  it.  The  hunter  cooked  his  meat,  and 
afterwards  turned  his  kettle,  Little  Kineo  Mountain,  on 
its  side,  and  left  it  to  dry.  So  the  moose  grew  smaller 
and  smaller." 

This  legend,  in  almost  the  exact  words  given  above, 
came  indirectly  to  the  writer  from  Louis  Annance,  then 
an  aged  Indian,  who  had  been  educated  at  Hanover,  New 
Hampshire,  and  was  afterwards  "  Sangamon,"  or  chief,  of 
the  St.  Francis  tribe,  and  later  an  inhabitant  for  ten  years 
of  the  Moosehead  forests.  He  is  no  longer  living. 

Another  legend  says  that  there  was  an  old  Indian, 
who,  in  the  words  of  the  writer's  informant,  "was  chief  of 
the  whole  nation.  He  was  capable  and  could  do  anythin', 
same  as  God,  —  make  anythin'."  While  on  his  way 
through  the  forests,  one  day,  he  came  upon  two  moose, 
hurriedly  dropped  his  pack,  and  started  in  pursuit  of 
them.  The  smaller  moose,  Kineo  Mountain,  was  soon 
overtaken  and  killed.  The  chief,  after  boiling  some  of 
the  meat,  turned  his  kettle  upside  down,  so  that  it  should 
not  rust,  took  up  the  trail  of  the  larger  moose,  and  fol- 
lowed the  latter  down  to  Castine,  where  he  killed  and 
dressed  it.  The  heart,  liver,  and  other  entrails,  he  threw 


24  WOODS  AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

to  his  dog,  and  they  are  the  long  string  of  rocks  which 
are  there  to  this  day.  The  more  easterly  of  the  Spencer 
Mountains  is  Sdbota'wan,  "the  pack,"  while  the  other,  or 
western,  peak  is  Kokadfjo,  "  the  kettle."  1 

The  authority  for  this  latter  legend  is  John  Pennowit, 
an  Indian  of  the  Penobscot  tribe,  who  has  passed  the 
greater  part  of  eighty-eight  years  in  the  woods  of  Maine, 
to  whom  the  writer  is  indebted  for  much  of  the  infor- 
mation on  Indian  nomenclature  contained  in  these  pages. 
He  is  probably  the  same  man  incidentally  mentioned  by 
Thoreau  as  John  Pennyweight.  The  writer  has  no  hesi- 
tation in  accepting,  as  the  more  correct,  his  version  of 
the  story  which  establishes  the  identity  of  West  Spencer 
Mountain  with  the  "  kettle."  Indeed,  the  shape  of  the 
Spencers  would  seem  to  settle  the  matter  beyond  ques- 
tion. Kokad'jo  is  quite  round,  while  Sabota'wan  is  long, 
and  its  top  level,  the  eastern  end  being  squared  off 
much  like  the  end  of  an  Indian  pack.2 

These  traditions  show  that  the  Indians  were  endowed 
with  great  imaginative  powers  and  with  no  little  poetic 
feeling.  Mount  Kineo,  when  seen  from  the  southern 
side,  looks  not  at  all  unlike  an  immense  moose,  lying 

1  The  writer  has  not  been  able  to  find  any  modern  Indian  name  for 
"  pack  "  like  Sabota'wan,  but  Kokad'jo  is  formed  from  kok,  "kettle,"  and  icadjo, 
"  mountain."     Sabota'wan  is  said  to  mean  more  exactly  "  the  end  of  the  pack, 
where  the  strap  is  pulled  together." 

2  Another  Penobscot  Indian  adds  to  the  foregoing  story  the  statement 
that  this  great  chief,  when  about  to  overtake  his  moose  at  Castine,  jumped 
from  Belfast  over  to  Castine,  and  left  the  trail  of  his  snow-shoes  on  the  side 
of  a  hill  near  Belfast,  where  it  can  be  seen  to  this  day.     This  is  called  3Ia- 
dangamus.     A  high  ledge  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  bay  is  called  Moosay- 
eek-teek,  the  "  moose's  hind-quarters." 


MOOSEHEAD   LAKE.  25 

or  stooping  with  its  head  towards  the  west.  The  pre- 
cipitous eastern  cliff  is  a  very  good  counterpart  of  the 
rump,  while  a  slight  elevation  at  the  beginning  of  the 
western  slope  well  represents  the  withers,  and  another 
near  its  foot  the  swelling  of  the  nose  or  "mouffle."  In- 
dian imagination,  however,  did  not  stop  here.  The  two 
main  arms  of  the  lake,  which  extend  north  and  south, 
one  on  each  side  of  the  "  moose,"  with  their  numberless 
bays  and  coves,  form  the  animal's  antlers  with  broad 
blades  and  branching  prongs.  May  not  this  be  the  origin 
of  "Moosehead"?1 

The  position  of  Mount  Kineo,  on  a  slender  promontory 
midway  of  the  lake  and  at  its  narrowest  part,  is  very 
marked.  It  is  one  of  a  broken  chain  of  small  mountains 
which  extend  from  Lobster  Lake  on  the  northeast  across 
Moosehead  to  Blue  Ridge.  According  to  Dr.  Jackson  its 
formation  is  hornstone,2  and  it  is  said  to  be  one  of  the 
largest  masses  of  that  substance  in  the  world.  The  word 
kineo  is  said  to  be  Abnaki  for  "  high  bluff,"  and  is  a  very 
good  description  of  the  mountain  as  seen  from  the  south 
or  east,  on  which  sides  it  is  a  sheer  wall  of  almost  bare 

1  Since  the  above  was  written,  the  writer  has  found  the  following  on  page 
10  of  Hugh  Finlay's  Journal,  published  in  1867,  at  Brooklyn,  by  Frank  H. 
Norton.     Finlay  was  a  surveyor,  and  in  September,  1773,  with  four  Indian 
guides  from  the  Chaudiere,  he  journeyed  through  the  Maine  woods  and  over 
part  of  Moosehead  Lake,  having  entered  the  latter  at  the  northwest  arm,  from 
Carry  Brook.     He  says  :  "  We  march'd  thro'  the  woods,  a  mile  S.  to  another 
dead  creek  half  a  mile  in  length  leading  us  also  S.  winding  to  a  large  lake 

called  by  our  Indians  Moose-parun This  lake  takes  its  name  from  a 

very  remarkable  mountain  on  the  S.  side,  about  nine  miles  down ;  the  Indians 
say  it  resembles  a  moose-deer  stooping." 

2  Geology  of  the  State  of  Maine,  by  C.  T.  Jackson. 


26  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

rock,  rising  to  a  height  of  seven  hundred  and  sixty- 
three  feet  above  the  lake.  This  mountain  was  in  olden 
times  a  place  of  great  resort  for  the  Indians,  who  went 
to  it  from  their  distant  villages  to  get  its  flinty  rock  to 
make  into  arrow-heads  and  other  implements.  Numbers 
of  these  relics  of  a  past  generation  have  been  found,  both 
near  the  mountain  and  far  away  from  it.  The  identity 
of  the  rock  from  which  they  had  been  made  seems  to 
have  been  fully  established. 

From  the  top  of  Mount  Kineo  a  fine  prospect  opens 
before  the  beholder.  At  his  feet  the  lake  stretches  its 
far-reaching  arms  in  almost  every  direction,  and  in  its 
very  silence  is  awe-inspiring.  Beneath  him  juts  out  into 
the  water  a  broad  tongue  of  level  land,  on  the  end  of 
which,  in  a  white  cluster,  stands  the  Mount  Kineo  House 
with  its  dependencies.  The  surface  of  this  ground  is 
gravel,  which,  in  accordance  with  a  theory  of  ten  years 
ago,  might  have  been  deposited  by  an  ocean  current  from 
the  north.  The  deposit  may,  however,  be  due  to  glacial 
action,  and  contains  several  depressions,  like  glacial  sink- 
holes. One  of  these  is  now  a  secluded  little  cranberry- 
bog. 

From  contemplation  of  the  waters,  edged  for  miles  with 
the  unbroken  forest  green,  the  eye  seeks  the  mountain 
tops.  Kokad'jo,  on  the  east,  rises  in  a  compact  rounded 
mass  to  the  height  of  3,035  feet ; l  while  Sabota'wan,  its 
neighbor,  from  this  point  cone-shaped  to  the  view,  is  per- 

1  From  observations  made  with  Green's  mountain  barometers,  by  Dr.  J.  J. 
Kirkbride  and  the  writer,  in  September,  1882,  the  mountain  being  2,022  feet 
above  Spencer  Pond,  and  the  latter  18  feet  above  Moosehead  Lake. 


MOOSEHEAD  LAKE.  27 

haps  a  hundred  feet  higher.1  Ktaadn2  [Katahdin]  lies 
beyond  them,  almost  entirely  shut  out  from  sight.  Far- 
ther to  the  south  are  the  Lily  Bay  Mountains  and  turreted 
Baker  in  one  almost  indistinguishable  mass,  the  latter' s 
highest  peak  being  3,589  feet  above  sea-level.3  East  of 
them  White  Cap4  and  other  peaks  near  Katahdin  Iron 
Works  are  visible.  Squaw  Mountain5  is  the  most  con- 
spicuous height  south  of  the  lake,  its  altitude  being  3,262 
feet.  The  extent  of  one's  vision  on  the  east  and  south 
is  limited;  but  as  the  eye  sweeps  the  western  horizon  on 
a  clear  day,  mountain  after  mountain  comes  into  view, 
like  the  rolling  billows  of  the  ocean.  The  most  promi- 
nent of  these  masses  are  cone-shaped  Bigelow  on  the 
southwest,  and  Bald  Mountain6  on  the  northwest. 

Tradition  makes  Moosehead  Lake  the  scene  of  many 
fierce  encounters  among  the  Indians,  in  which  the  invading 
Maquas,  or  Mohawks,  took  a  prominent  part.  Indeed, 
the  ancient  name  of  Wilson  Pond  is  said  to  be  Etas-i-i'-ti, 
"  where  they  had  a  great  fight,"  or  "  destruction-ground," 
and  many  were  the  arts  resorted  to  by  contending  foes 
to  gain  the  advantage  over  one  another.  The  Mohawks 
were  persuaded  by  the  colonists  to  join  them  against  the 

1  Estimated  from  the  summit  of  Kokad'jo  by  the  aid  of  a  pocket-level. 

2  "  The  biggest  mountain." 

3  From  observations  made  with  Green's  mountain  barometers,  in  August, 
1882,  by  the  writer  and  an  observer  at  Katahdin  Iron  Works. 

4  Wassum'ke'de'wad'jo,  White  Sand  Mountain. 

5  A  legend   concerning    Squaw  and   Kineo   Mountains   is   omitted  here 
because  it  has  been  previously  printed  in  the  writer's  "  Guide  to  Moosehead 
Lake  and  Northern  Maine,"  and  because  there   are   some  doubts  about  its 
being  Indian. 

6  Eskwe'skwe'wad'jo,  She-Bear  Mountain. 


28  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

Eastern  Indians,  and  appear  to  have  been  a  great  scourge 
to  the  Penobscots,  who  were  finally  compelled  to  buy 
peace  at  the  price  of  an  annual  tribute,  which  the  Mo- 
hawks for  many  years  collected  with  great  regularity. 


Among  the  ponds  and  streams  near  Moosehead  Lake,  or  which  empty  into 
it,  and  whose  Indian  names  are  still  known,  may  be  included  Roach  Pond,  or 
Kdkad'je-weem-gwa'sebem,  Kettle  Mountain  Lake  ;  Spencer  Pond,  the  dimin- 
utive Kokad'je-iceem-gwasebem'-sis,  Kettle  Mountain  Pond ;  Indian  Pond  on 
the  Kennebec,  or  See-bah'-ti-cook,  Logon  Stream ;  Moose  River,  or  Sahk-ha'- 
be-ha-luck',  so  called  because  "  there  is  more  water  flowing  from  it  than  from 
any  other  stream  that  empties  into  the  lake  "  ;  and  Brassua  or  Brassaway  Lake, 
Psis-con-tic,  "  handiest  place  to  build  canoes  "  (?).  An  explanation  of  the  word 
"  Brassaway  "  is  that  it  is  the  corresponding  Indian  word  for  "  Frank,"  and 
that  the  lake  has  taken  its  name  from  some  noted  chief  who  lived  or  died 
there.  It  may  not  be  out  of  place  here  to  say  that  Indian  place-names  almost 
always  describe  some  physical  characteristic,  natural  or  accidental,  a  concom- 
itant of  the  place  or  its  neighborhood,  or  a  fancied  resemblance  to  something. 
Sometimes  they  describe  an  event,  or  series  of  events,  that  have  happened  at 
the  place.  Less  frequently  they  are  applied  to  objects  as  subordinate  to  or 
near  some  more  prominent  object,  whose  name  they  embrace  as  a  component. 
Again  we  occasionally  find  names  of  persons  transferred  to  places.  In  the 
latter  class  the  substantival  for  lake,  river,  etc.  is  generally  wanting,  and  in 
such  cases  we  may  depend  upon  it  that  the  names  are  not  of  Indian  applica- 
tion. Examples  of  this  class  are  Brassua,  given  above,  and  Atean  (Pond),  the 
names  of  chiefs.  A  like  instance,  not  of  a  proper  name  however,  is  that  of 
Tomhegan  (Stream  and  Pond),  from  tomaliliegan1 ',  which  means  "  axe  "  or 
"  hatchet."  No  Indian  would  think  of  calling  a  stream  "  hatchet."  He  might 
say  "  at  the  hatchet-stream,"  or  "  at  the  hatchet-rock,"  and  refer  to  the  loss  or 
discovery  of  a  hatchet  at  that  place,  or  to  a  rock  shaped  like  a  hatchet.  At 
the  end  of  place-names  too,  we  frequently  find  a  locative  particle,  in  £,  which 
serves  to  change  an  indefinite  or  general  name  into  a  particular  one,  or  to 
locate  it  specifically.  The  Indian  says  "  at  Gull  Lake,"  where  we  say  simply 
"  Gull  Lake."  The  reason  for  this  is  the  more  apparent  when  we  remember 
that  a  stream,  for  instance,  need  not,  and  seldom  does,  bear  throughout  its 
course  the  characteristics  that  its  name  indicates.  Indeed,  it  is  not  unusual 
for  a  river  to  have  several  names,  which  vary  with  its  characteristics.  The 


INDIAN  PLACE-NAMES.  29 

name  then,  instead  of  being  the  name  of  the  river,  is  really  and  primarily  the 
name  of  a  place  on  the  rive?',  or  near  it.  A  lake,  too,  is  sometimes  named  from 
its  outlet. 

One  of  the  prettiest  streams  that  empty  into  Moosehead  Lake  is  the 
Soca'tean.  Its  name  is  currently  thought  to  be  that  of  a  former  warrior,  Soc 
Atean,  "  Standing  Atean,"  who  may  have  had  this  sobriquet  given  him  for 
bravery.  It  is  quite  probable,  however,  that  the  word  is  an  abbreviation  or 
corruption  of  the  real  name  of  the  stream  given  by  Pennowit,  Mesak'ketesa'- 
gewick,  and  explained  by  him  as  "  half  burnt  land  and  half  standing  timber, 
with  the  stream  separating  them."  The  syllables  sak-ke-te  bear  a  striking 
resemblance  to  the  modern  name.  While  the  name  "  Atean  "  exists  to  this 
day  among  the  Penobscot  Indians,  careful  inquiry  by  the  writer  has  failed  to 
find  traces  of  it  in  combination  with  "  Soc."  Perhaps  then  soc  or  sakke  (Rale) 
refers  to  the  "  standing  "  timber. 


CHAPTEK    II. 

PASSAGE  OVER  MOOSEHEAD.  —  OUR  PARTY.  —  JOE  AND  SILAS.  — 
NORTHEAST  CARRY.  —  OLD  TRAMWAY.  —  FIRST  WHIFF  OF  FOR- 
EST AIR.  —  WEST  BRANCH  OF  THE  PENOBSCOT.  —  LOBSTER  LAKE. 
—  MOONLIGHT  EEVERIES. 

/"~\N  a  bright  September  day  in  the  year  1881  the  writer 
found  himself  on  board  that  asthmatic  little  craft 
known  to  all  frequenters  of  the  Mount  Kineo  House  as 
the  "Day  Dream,"  steaming  rapidly  around  Kineo  Prom- 
ontory towards  the  northeast  corner  of  Moosehead  Lake. 
His  companions  were  a  friend,  Captain  Sartor,  and  two 
Indian  guides,  Joe  and  Silas.  Two  canoes,  one  of  birch- 
bark  and  the  other  of  rigid  canvas,  were  firmly  lashed, 
bottom  outward,  one  to  each  side  of  the  little  steamer, 
while  on  the  latter's  deck  were  piled,  in  disorder,  camp 
equipage,  and  provisions  estimated  to  last  four  men  for 
twenty-five  days. 

Captain  Sartor,  although  he  hailed  from  San  Francisco, 
was  a  cosmopolitan,  or,  as  he  himself  suggested,  a  Bohe- 
mian, and  a  man  of  much  experience,  except  in  those 
matters  that  pertain  to  life  in  the  woods.  He  could  con- 
verse well  on  many  subjects,  was  at  home  in  the  use  of 
pencil  and  brush,  and,  although  frequently  given  to  scoff- 
ing, was  endowed  with  an  evenness  of  temper  and  a 


OUR   PARTY.  31 

willingness  to  bear  discomfort  that  made  of  him  that 
rarest  of  persons,  an  agreeable  travelling  companion.  In 
figure  he  was  large  and  stout,  in  language  sometimes 
forcible,  but  in  habits  his  more  genial  friends  thought 
he  was  abstemious  to  a  fault. 

Joe,  the  elder  of  the  guides,  had  formerly  lived  on  the 
banks  of  the  St.  John  in  New  Brunswick,  and  later  in 
Quebec.  He  belonged  to  the  Maliseets,  an  offshoot  of  the 
Passamaquoddies.  Upwards  of  fifty  years  old,  he  was 
rather  lightly  built,  but  was  tough  and  sinewy,  and 
utterly  devoid  of  any  tendency  to  laziness,  a  trait  too 
often  found  among  his  race.  A  man  of  great  self-reliance, 
he  was  in  the  habit  of  taking  the  lead  at  all  times,  and 
by  so  doing  in  our  party  on  more  than  one  occasion  he 
evidently  wounded  the  susceptibilities  of  his  younger 
companion,  who  was  also  a  man  of  energy  and  of  great 
experience  in  the  woods.  Joe  was  very  intelligent,  and 
what  learning  he  possessed  had  been  acquired  under  diffi- 
culties. To  quote  his  own  words,  he  said :  "  Since  I  come 
over  from  Canada  I've  been  study  the  lon-gwage,  and 
now  I  kin  buy  my  own  grub,  and  write  my  own  let- 
ters. I  done  pretty  well  for  me.  I  never  was  in  English 
school.  I  have  eight  children  when  I  first  come  into 
Maine.  Nine  weeks  afterwards  my  wife  died.  I  call  it 
devilish  hard  time  —  that  time.  I  work  the  day  and 
study  the  evenings." 

Joe  was  very  well  informed  about  the  Northern  Maine 
woods,  but  once  or  twice  when  we  called  for  his  estimate 
of  distances  and  other  measurements,  and  then  questioned 
their  accuracy,  he  seemed  to  become  irritated,  and  asked 


32 


WOODS  AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 


us  why  we  sought  his  opinion  if  we  already  had  the 
information  demanded. 

Silas,  an  Abnaki  of  the  St.  Francis  tribe,  was  thirty 
years  old,  and  had  spent  the  greater  part  of  his  early  life 
as  a  hunter  and  trapper  in  the  Canadian  forests.  His 
father,  P.  P.  Wzokhilain,  had  been  educated  at  Hanover, 
New  Hampshire,  and  had  published  several  books  in  the 
Indian  language.  The  son,  in  order  to  escape  a  compul- 
sory education,  enlisted  dur- 
ing the  late  civil  war,  at  the 
age  of  fourteen,  as  a  pri- 
vate in  a  Michigan  regiment. 
Three  times  rejected  on  ac- 
count of  his  youth,  he  was 
finally  accepted  on  the  decla- 
ration of  a  recruiting  officer 
that  he  was  eighteen  years 
old.  During  his  service  he 
distinguished  himself  for  neat- 
ness, bravery,  and  an  incor- 
ruptible discharge  of  duty. 
On  a  call  by  the  general  of 
his  division  for  the  best  man 

in  the  regiment,  he  was  detailed  to  take  a  bounty-jumper 
from  Indianapolis  to  Baltimore.  Being  offered  a  commis- 
sion as  first  lieutenant,  he  had  to  decline  it  because  he 
could  neither  read  nor  write.  At  the  end  of  the  war  he 
was  mustered  out  of  the  service  as  color-guard,  a  slight 
mark  of  honor  forced  upon  him  by  his  superiors,  and 
one  from  which  his  want  of  learning  did  not  bar  him. 


SILAS. 


SILAS.  33 

Short  of  stature,  with  broad  shoulders,  thick  neck,  and 
solid  frame,  Silas  was  a  marvel  of  strength  and  as  agile 
as  a  cat.  The  writer  has  seen  him  take  up  and  carry  on 
his  shoulder  a  log,  under  which  two  ordinary  men  would 
stagger.  Neatness  and  cleanliness  were  two  of  his  great- 
est virtues,  in  which  many  a  high-born  white  man  might 
have  deemed  it  an  honor  to  be  his  peer.  For  eight  years 
or  more  he  had  lived  at  Oldtown,  Maine,  and  had  acquired 
the  reputation  of  being  the  quickest  and  most  daring  log- 
driver  on  the  Penobscot,  and  his  services  were  always  in 
demand  and  brought  the  highest  wages.  For  five  years 
he  had  served  the  writer  as  guide  in  the  Maine  woods, 
and  a  more  devoted  and  thoughtful  servant  and  friend 
would  be  hard  to  find.  Entering  into  the  spirit  of  explo- 
ration which  prompted  the  writer's  forest  tours,  he  often 
devised  ways  to  overcome  obstacles,  and  pushed  forward 
where  others  would  have  faltered  or  turned  back.  His 
only  weakness  was  that  curse  of  the  white  man,  strong 
drink,  a  few  swallows  of  which  were  enough  to  set  his 
brain  on  fire  and  make  him  quarrelsome  and  vindictive, 
characteristics  which  at  other  times  seemed  to  form  no 
part  of  his  nature.  Poor  fellow  !  He  came  to  an  untimely 
end  in  the  spring  of  1882,  while  at  work  in  the  woods  of 
Northern  New  Hampshire.  He  fell  on  his  head  from  a 
lodged  spruce-tree,  up  whose  slanting  trunk  he  had 
climbed  to  cut  away  the  interlocking  branches.  Death 
was  instantaneous. 

Farewell,  Silas !  May  thy  life  in  the  happy  hunting- 
grounds  be  peaceful !  May  atonement  for  mortal  weak- 
nesses be  tempered  and  sweetened  by  memories  of  kind 


34  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

deeds  done  to  others  here  below,  of  duties  faithfully  per- 
formed, of  an  unswerving  honesty  of  purpose  and  an 
unflinching  integrity ! 

As  our  craft  passed  beyond  Trout  Point  and  the  Three 
Sisters  and  approached  the  face  of  Kineo,  the  afternoon 
sun  cast  many  a  dark  shadow  on  its  rocky  side  before 
us,  and  the  screams  of  a  pair  of  cliff-eagles,  that  hov- 
ered over  its  summit,  recalled  to  us  the  old  legend  of 
the  squaw  who  once  lived  in  a  hole  up  there,  and, 
thrusting  out  her  head,  laughed  hideously  at  canoemen 
as  they  paddled  by. 

The  three  hours  of  our  passage  were  spent  in  forming 
a  better  acquaintance  with  our  guides,  neither  of  whom 
had  Captain  Sartor  ever  seen  before  that  day ;  and  in  lay- 
ing out  and  discussing  our  route,  with  which  not  one  of 
us  was  entirely  familiar.  The  shores  of  Moosehead  Lake 
in  North  Bay  are  less  broken  than  elsewhere,  and  the 
few  mountains  on  its  eastern  side  have  but  a  momen- 
tary interest  for  the  passer-by.  We  had  a  fine  view  of 
Mount  Ktaadn  as  we  approached  the  head  of  the  lake, 
and  at  five  o'clock  landed  at  the  end  of  the  long  pier 
which  connects  deep  water  with  the  shore.  Here,  at  the 
cosey  little  hotel  kept  by  Mr.  Simeon  Savage,  we  passed 
a  quiet  night,  the  last  we  should  spend  indoors  for  sev- 
eral weeks. 

The  great  North  Bay  of  Moosehead  Lake  separates 
into  two  arms,  at  the  heads  of  which  are  what  are  called 
respectively  the  Northeast  Carry  and  the  Northwest  Carry, 
roads  which  lead  to  the  West  Branch  of  the  Penobscot, 
some  two  miles  to  the  north.  Before  the  use  of  modern 


NOETHEAST   CAEEY.  35 

conveyances  was  known  in  these  wilds,  the  Indians  car- 
ried their  canoes  on  their  backs  over  the  portages,  which 
then  were  but  narrow  paths  through  the  dense  forest. 
In  later  years  the  enterprise  of  the  logger  built  a  tram- 
way across  the  Northeast  Carry,  over  which  supplies 
were  drawn  by  oxen,  to  be  distributed  among  the  "log- 
ging camps "  on  the  Penobscot.  Theodore  Winthrop 
has  immortalized  this  road  and  its  quaint  and  patient 
motive  power,  which  linked  civilization  with  the  world 
beyond.1  But  the  tramway  is  no  more.  A  destructive 
fire,  which  laid  waste  many  acres  of  forest  growth,  ruined 
it  as  well.  Its  vestiges,  in  the  form  of  a  few  charred 
and  decaying  timbers  in  the  rank  shrubbery  at  the  side 
of  the  present  wagon-road,  are  hardly  conspicuous  enough 
to  cause  more  than  passing  comment.  However,  "  111 
blows  the  wind  that  profits  nobody."  This  burnt  dis- 
trict of  late  years  has  yielded  a  large  supply  of  delicious 
blueberries. 

The  land  between  Moosehead  Lake  and  the  Penobscot 
rises  gradually  from  each  of  these  waters  to  a  height  of 
perhaps  fifty  feet  or  more  above  the  former,  the  river 
opposite  the  Northwest  Carry  being  11.36  feet  higher, 
and  opposite  the  Northeast  Carry  some  feet  lower,  than 
the  lake.2  The  easterly  road,  by  constant  use,  has  been 
worn  down  on  the  southern  slope  to  the  underlying 
gravel  and  rock.  Its  bed  is  a  foot  or  two  below  the 

1  "Life  in  the  Open  Air." 

2  In  Wells's  "Water  Power  of  Maine,"  p.  101,  the  Penobscot  is  said  to 
fall  34  feet  between  the  two  "carries,"  which  would  make  the  difference  of 
level  between  lake  and  river  at  the  Northeast  Carry  22.64  feet.     This  is  com- 
monly thought  to  be  too  great. 


36  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

level  of  the  surrounding  soil,  and,  like  all  carries  of 
the  kind,  it  offers  incomparable  inducements  to  serve 
as  drainage  for  the  water  that  collects  on  both  sides. 
The  tourist  can  therefore  depend  upon  having  a  wet 
walk  over  part  of  the  carry  at  least,  except  in  very  dry 
seasons. 

Our  canoes  and  camp-equipage  having  been  carefully 
loaded  on  the  wagon,  the  impedimenta  in  the  wagon-bed 
and  the  canoes  inverted  over  it  and  fastened  side  by  side 
to  two  cross-sticks,  Captain  Sartor  and  the  writer  bade 
Mr.  Savage  good  by,  and,  leaving  the  guides  to  follow 
with  the  load,  walked  ahead.  The  exercise  in  the  keen 
morning  air  soon  put  in  a  glow  our  faculties  both  of  mind 
arid  body.  The  bright  sun  in  the  eastern  sky  shed  a 
lustre  over  our  path  that  reached  far  beyond  the  bounds 
of  physical  sight,  and  the  old  enthusiasm  at  being  again 
about  to  enter  Nature's  wild  domain  fired  the  writer 
anew.  Who  can  describe  the  sweetness  of  that  first 
whiff  of  forest  aroma !  The  drying  branches  of  some 
prostrate  fir-tree  load  the  air  with  a  fragrance  one  would 
fain  drink  in  in  never-ending  draughts.  Our  old  friends, 
the  birches,  nod  a  joyous  welcome,  as  they  rustle  in  the 
rising  breeze.  The  bushes,  berries,  wild-flowers,  mosses 
and  lichens,  all  revive  some  pleasant  memory.  Our 
pulses  throb  with  new  life,  our  step  grows  elastic,  and 
we  are  already  creatures  of  a  different  mould  from  yes- 
terday. 

The  Northeast  and  Northwest  Carries  are  of  about  an 
equal  length,  and  James  Russell  Lowell,  when  he  crossed 
the  latter  with  a  load  on  his  back,  estimated  the  distance 


LOBSTER   LAKE.  37 

at  eighteen  thousand  six  hundred  and  seventy-four  miles 
and  three  quarters.1  More  sober  measurements,  how- 
ever, make  the  length  of  the  Northeast  Carry  two  miles 
and  forty  rods.  At  its  northern  end,  on  the  right  bank 
of  the  Penobscot,  is  the  farm  of  Joseph  Morris,  the 
last  human  habitation  we  should  see  for  nearly  twenty 
miles. 

Embarking  in  our  canoes,  we  were  soon  gliding  over 
the  glassy  surface  of  the  West  Branch,  as  this  river  is 
familiarly  called,  towards  the  mouth  of  Lobster  Stream, 
which  joins  it  about  two  miles  and  a  half  below  Morris's. 
From  this  point  it  is  a  like  distance,  through  equally  quiet 
water,  up  into  Lobster  Lake.  At  the  mouth  of  Lobster 
Stream  there  is  an  island,  on  one  side  of  which  the  flow 
of  water  from  the  lake  is  almost  directly  against  the 
course  of  the  current  in  the  Penobscot.  The  lake  is 
fed  by  several  short  and  small  brooks,  which  ordinarily 
are  quite  inadequate  to  keep  its  level  above  that  of 
the  river.  Upon  any  rise  of  the  latter,  its  waters  flow 
easily,  and  as  a  matter  of  course,  into  the  lake,  some- 
times raising  the  water  level  there  eight  or  ten  feet 
in  a  few  days.  From  this  circumstance,  doubtless,  the 
lake  takes  its  Indian  name,  Pes'kebegat,  "  Branch  of  a 
Dead-water."2 

An  amusing  incident  is  related  of  a  logger,  whose 
"drive  of  logs,"  during  his  first  experience  on  the  West 

1  "A  Moosehead  Journal,"  in  "Fireside  Travels." 

2  Another  interpretation  of  this  word  is  "  Branching  Lake,"  or  "  Split 
Lake,"  which  may  be  a  better  one  than  that  given  in  the  text.     The  form  of 
the  lake  well  corresponds  to  it. 


38  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

Branch,  went  up  into  Lobster  Lake.  He  supposed  all 
the  while  that  he  was  following  the  main  river,  until 
he  reached  the  lake,  when  he  was  completely  lost,  and 
thought  himself  bewitched.  However  improbable  it  may 
seem  that  this  man  and  his  "  crew "  should  have  been 
unacquainted  with  the  two  streams  at  this  point,  the 
story  furnishes  a  very  good  illustration  of  the  character- 
istics of  the  place. 

On  Lobster  Lake  we  loitered  for  a  day  in  well-spent 
idleness.  Our  camp  was  on  a  point  of  land  from  which 
we  took  in  the  receding  sweep  of  the  Lobster  Mountain 
range,  the  Spencer  peaks,  long  Sabota'wan  and  rounded 
Kokad'jo,  and  far-off  Ktaadn  with  its  lovely  morning 
shadows.  Steep  rocky  promontories  crowned  with  Nor- 
way pines  jutted  out  on  our  right  into  the  lake,  while 
between  them  lay  most  seductive  reaches  of  sandy  beach. 
A  picturesque  island  was  on  our  left,  and  far  beyond  it 
stretched  West  Cove,  which,  with  the  lake  and  point  of 
land  between  the  two,  helps  to  form  the  fancied  outline 
of  a  lobster's  claw. 

Captain  Sartor  with  his  brush,  and  the  writer  with 
his  camera,  passed  a  portion  of  the  day  together,  while 
the  guides  opened  our  boxes  and  arranged  their  contents 
in  convenient  packages.  A  visit  in  the  afternoon  to 
Little  Lobster  Lake,  the  bagging  of  three  ruffed  grouse, 
and  a  quiet  "paddle"  towards  evening,  completed  the 
experience  of  our  first  day  in  camp. 

After  supper,  while  the  guides  were  chatting  and 
smoking  their  pipes,  and  Joe  was  posing  for  a  picture, 
the  writer  wandered  away  from  camp  down  to  the  moon- 


MOONLIGHT   EEVEEIES.  39 

lit  shore.  The  day  had  been  uncommonly  fine ;  the  night 
was  superb.  The  forest  lay  in  calm  repose.  Its  silent 
aisles  were  curtained  with  darkness  palpable,  save  where 
the  moon's  bright  shafts,  entering  here  and  there  the 
lighter  foliage,  and  struggling  through  its  network  of 
leaves  and  piny  needles,  were  sifted  into  a  softer,  mel- 
lower light.  The  outlines  of  lofty  spruce-trunks,  like 
sentinels  at  their  posts,  were  just  visible  at  the  edge  of 
the  near  obscurity,  and  up  the  sides  of  the  spectral  birch- 
trees  by  the  shore  trembled  a  gentle  shimmer  of  light, 
reflected  from  the  rippling  waters  of  the  cove.  Not  a 
breath  of  air  was  stirring.  The  ripples  came,  as  if  im- 
pelled by  an  unseen  hand  from  some  distant  source,  to 
lap  the  warm  and  sandy  beach,  and  there  dissolved  with- 
out a  murmur. 

A  dread  stillness  prevailed,  a  silence  that  could  be  born 
only  of  night,  weird  and  supernatural.  And  yet  in  this 
very  silence  of  Nature  in  her  gentler  moods  there  is  a 
rhythm,  as  it  were,  that,  acting  on  the  spirit,  charms 
and  soothes,  —  a  chord  whose  each  successive  vibration, 
emanating  from  some  wondrous  hidden  source,  acts  with 
varying  force  upon  our  rougher  nature,  harmonizes  at 
each  pulsation  its  rude  components,  and  moulds  us  insen- 
sibly into  better,  truer  beings.  Hardened  indeed  must 
he  be  over  whom  these  charms  have  no  refining  power. 
The  beautiful  waters,  woods,  and  hills,  the  subtile  influ- 
ences that  hover  over  them,  the  expanding  freedom  of 
body  and  soul,  as  they  reach  forward  with  ecstatic  long- 
ing as  if  to  kiss  sweet  Nature's  self,  —  these  are  for  him 
who  seeks  seclusion  from  the  world  in  the  wild-woods' 


40  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

vast  domain.  There  is  fit  place  for  rest  and  meditation; 
a  fitting  altar  on  which  to  sacrifice  our  baser  thoughts 
and  passions,  long  endeared  to  us ;  a  place  from  which, 
with  strength  of  body,  mind,  and  will  renewed,  we  may 
reissue  well  prepared  for  sterner  duties. 


READY   FOR   THE   START. 


CHAPTER   III. 

PENOBSCOT  VALLEY.  —  RAPIDS.  —  FIRST  MOUSING  IN  CAMP.  — 
BREAKING  CAMP.  —  "  PITCHING  "  AND  LOADING  CANOE.  —  A 
CARIBOU. — MEASURING  DISTANCES.  —  Fox  HOLE.  —  A  MESS  OF 
TROUT.  —  A  MISHAP.  —  REFLECTIONS.  —  RUNNING  RAPIDS.  —  A 
FIFTH  PASSENGER.  —  SQUIRRELS. 

T3ETWEEN  Pes'kebegat  and  Chesuncook  the  Penob- 
scot,  in  fifteen  or  sixteen  miles,  falls  a  hundred  feet 
or  more.  Over  about  half  of  this  distance  the  water  is 
sluggish ;  over  the  other  half,  it  has  a  noticeable  current, 
which  at  times  increases  to  the  velocity  of  a  rapid, 
notably  at  Big  Island  Rips,  Rocky  Rips,  and  Pine  Stream 
Falls.  The  first  two  of  these  rapids  can  generally  be 
passed  over  with  ease,  even  by  a  heavily  laden  birch 
canoe ;  but  at  the  last-named,  at  least  one  occupant  of  so 
frail  a  craft  will  sometimes  find  it  prudent  to  disembark 
and  walk  around  the  upper  and  more  difficult  part  of  the 
falls.  The  river  has  a  width  of  from  thirty  to  seventy 
yards,  or  even  more  when  groups  of  rich  alluvial  islands 
divide  its  course.  Most  of  these  are  crowned  with  a  rank 
growth  of  grass,  and  on  them  here  and  there  a  stunted 
elm-tree  shows  its  outlines  against  the  vacant  sky. 

The  valley  of  the  Penobscot  here  is  quite  broad.     The 
river's  banks  are  from  six  to  eight  feet  high,  and  it  is 


42  WOODS  AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

not  unusual  in  spring  freshets  to  see  the  water  even  with 
their  tops,  or  overflowing  them.  Beyond  the  banks  the 
country  runs  off  into  wide  level  sweeps  of  rich  land, 
covered  with  a  mingled  growth  of  fir  and  hard  woods, 
or  here  and  there  gently  rises  in  undulating  swells  above 
the  intervale.  The  river's  even  flow  is  seldom  broken  by 
a  rocky  ledge,  and  the  serried  lines  of  trees  on  both  sides 
shut  out  from  view  the  distant  hills  and  mountains,  save 
where  they  give  a  few  glimpses  of  the  Spencer  peaks,  or 
a  glimpse  or  two  of  Mount  Ktaadn.  Now  and  then  the 
light  breaks  through  a  grove  of  poplars,  the  after-growth 
of  some  forest  fire,  and  beyond  them  may  be  found  a 
mossy  bog,  or  the  grassy  banks  of  some  sluggish  brook. 

Over  this  course  lay  our  second  day's  journey.  The 
guides  were  up  by  daylight,  and  the  sputtering  of  their 
new-made  fire  soon  warned  us  that  we  too  should  rise. 
A  generous  application  of  the  waters  of  frost-nipped 
Pes'kebegat  soon  opened  wide  our  heavy  eyelids ;  for  the 
first  night  in  camp  does  not  always  bring  sleep  to  the 
drowsy  nor  rest  to  the  weary,  and,  although  the  writer 
had  no  special  complaints  to  make,  there  were  signs 
about  the  Captain  which  made  it  politic  not  to  pass  the 
compliments  of  the  morning  too  confidently,  nor  to  dis- 
cuss with  too  much  enthusiasm  the  pleasures  of  camping. 
A  neutral  tone  was  therefore  given  to  the  conversation, 
and  although  the  writer  noticed  the  Captain's  eye  fixed 
on  him  in  a  very  meaning  way  during  one  or  two  of  the 
pauses,  the  dangerous  period  —  until  breakfast-time  - 
was  successfully  bridged  over,  and  safety  was  then  assured 
for  the  day. 


"PITCHING"   A   CANOE.  43 

After  a  breakfast  of  bread,  bacon,  and  boiled  potatoes, 
-the  "three  Bs,"  as  the  Captain,  from  its  frequent  recur- 
rence, soon  learned  facetiously  to  dub  our  bill  of  fare, — 
we  fell  busily  to  work  to  break  camp.  To  each  active 
man  was  assigned  his  routine  duties.  The  writer's  part 
was  to  fold  up  the  blankets,  and  to  put  in  order  our 
bag  of  knicknacks  and  extra  clothing,  which  in  sundry 
parcels,  together  with  hats,  boots,  and  hardware,  had 
served  for  "  heading "  during  the  night.  These,  with 
gun,  camera,  and  box  of  plates,  constituted  all  his  cares, 
while  the  Captain,  being  a  guest,  and  more  or  less 
aesthetic,  stood  aloof,  and  viewed  the  scene  with  an 
artist's  eye. 

Every  guide  makes  or  should  make  a  practice  of  over- 
hauling his  birch  canoe  each  morning  before  putting  it 
into  the  water,  and  when  an  eye  in  the  bark  has  been 
freshly  broken,  or  the  "pitch"  rubbed  off,  a  new  appli- 
cation of  that  substance  must  be  made.  The  damaged 
"  eyes,"  being  often  very  minute,  are  not  always  easy  to 
find.  Where  they  cannot  be  seen  at  a  glance,  the  guide 
applies  his  lips  to  the  suspected  surface,  and  by  a  suck- 
ing process  can  detect  a  leak  at  once.  The  different 
spots,  as  soon  as  found,  are  marked  with  a  pencil,  or  with 
a  charred  stick  from  the  camp-fire.  The  broken  eyes  are 
then  cut  into  on  either  side  along  the  fracture,  and  at 
an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees  to  its  plane,  and  thoroughly 
dried,  either  with  a  fire-brand,  or  by  being  exposed  to  the 
sun.  These  preliminaries  over,  the  guide  takes  his  pitch 
dipper  from  the  coals,  where  it  had  been  previously  placed, 
and  applies  the  melted  resin  to  the  bark,  smoothing  and 


44 


WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 


pressing  it   into  place  with  his  moistened  thumb.      In- 
cisions   made    carefully    in   this    way   hold   the    pitch    a 

long  time,  as  the 
latter  cannot  read- 
ily be  rubbed  off 
enough  to  reopen 
the  break.  There 
are  often  leaks 
where  the  bark  has 
been  cut  or  torn  by 
contact  with  the 
rocks,  and  each 
new  scrape,  how- 
ever slight,  is  apt 
to  break  the  brittle 
resin  and  reopen 
the  wound.  The 
canoeman  is  some- 
times  compelled, 
for  this  reason,  to  stop  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  un- 
load his  birch,  and  as  it  were  go  into  dry  dock  for 
repairs. 

To  load  a  canoe  properly,  when  about  to  take  a  jour- 
ney in  it,  requires  time  and  patience,  with  a  good  deal 
of  experimenting.  First  of  all,  the  bulk  should  be  so 
arranged  that  the  man  in  the  stern  may  have  perfect 
freedom  to  move  about  when  he  stands  up  to  guide  the 
craft.  The  bow,  too,  must  be  so  weighted  that  in  rapid 
water  it  shall  feel  the  effect  of  the  current  and  quickly 
yield  to  it.  Of  the  first  importance  is  it,  however,  that 


PITCHING      THE   CANOE. 


A   CAKIBOU.  45 

the  canoe  should  be  trim.  Where  there  are  two  canoes 
in  a  party,  after  the  division  and  arrangement  of  lug- 
gage has  been  once  established,  the  operation  of  loading 
becomes  mechanical. 

On  the  morning  in  question,  owing  to  many  delays, 
it  was  nine  o'clock  and  after  when  we  left  Lobster  Lake, 
and  found  ourselves  sailing  down  the  outflowing  stream 
before  a  brisk  southeast  wind.  Suddenly,  on  turning  a 
bend,  we  saw  a  caribou  (Eangifer  caribou]  approaching 
on  the  opposite  bank.  Our  sense  of  sight  was  scarcely 
quicker  than  his  sense  of  smell,  for  although  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  yards  away  he  made  two  or  three  sniffing 
movements  of  the  head  towards  each  side,  and,  turning 
into  the  alder-bushes,  disappeared  before  we  could  recover 
from  our  surprise.  "  That  caribou  must  have  his  cane 
with  him,  he  leave  the  country  so  quick,"  exclaimed 
Joe,  whose  regret  at  the  absence  of  fresh  steak  from  our 
table  manifested  itself  for  several  days  afterward. 

This  incident  created  quite  an  excitement  in  the  Cap- 
tain's mind,  and  although  we  cautioned  him  that  sev- 
eral days  must  elapse  before  we  could  lawfully  take  game, 
he  solemnly  drew  forth  the  sole  weapon  he  possessed,  a 
small  thirty-two  calibre  revolver,  impressively  laid  it  be- 
fore him  on  the  bottom  of  his  canoe,  and  vowed  that 
no  moose  or  caribou  should  come  near  him,  law  or  no 
law,  —  not  near  enough  to  "bite"  him,  anyhow. 

The  average  sportsman  in  this  part  of  the  world,  espe- 
cially when  in  a  canoe,  is  apt  to  be  somewhat  careless 
in  not  having  his  gun  within  reach,  and  disengaged  from 
everything  that  might  prevent  its  immediate  use.  Noth- 


46  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

ing  will  sooner  make  him  realize  the  importance  of  being 
ever  on  the  qui  vive  than  the  sight  of  game,  and  we 
were  no  exception  to  the  rule.  The  guides'  conversa- 
tion dropped  to  monosyllables  uttered  in  an  undertone, 
while  the  Captain  and  the  writer  devoted  their  attention 
exclusively  to  scanning  the  banks  of  the  stream  as  we 
glided  onwards  and  into  the  Penobscot.  Several  years 
before  this  time  a  friend  of  the  writer,  unarmed  of  course, 
had  suddenly  come  upon  a  large  member  of  the  cat  tribe 
that  was  swimming  across  this  very  stream,  and  we  knew 
that  bears  had  not  infrequently  been  seen  on  the  shores 
of  Pes'kebegat. 

The  West  Branch,  in  the  parlance  of  loggers,  "had 
on  a  good  pitch,"  and  for  two  and  a  half  miles  after 
we  first  turned  into  the  river  we  found  that  the  current 
hurried  us  along  with  considerable  speed.  In  the  chan- 
nels the  water  was,  on  an  average,  over  two  feet  deep, 
and  the  bed  of  the  stream  was  for  the  most  part  com- 
paratively smooth.  Eooted  in  it  were  patches  of  a  coarse 
grass,  whose  blades  were  flat  and  narrow,  like  ribbons. 
The  long  snake-like  forms  writhed  and  bent  in  the  cur- 
rent, their  heads  now  sinking  low  beneath  the  water's 
surface,  and  again  rising  as  if  to  take  breath. 

It  has  been  the  writer's  experience,  that  in  still  water, 
when  there  is  little  or  no  wind  blowing,  two  men  paddling 
steadily  and  with  moderate  force  can  impel  a  lightly 
laden  canoe  at  the  rate  of  a  mile  in  about  seventeen 
minutes.  The  speed  of  a  canoe  is  rarely  accelerated,  on 
Maine  rivers  at  least,  to  the  rate  of  a  mile  in  eight  min- 
utes, and  then  only  for  short  distances  and  over  reaches 


FOX  HOLE.  47 

of  comparatively  unobstructed  swift  water.  The  method 
of  estimating  distances  on  the  water  by  thus  timing  one's 
progress  is  often  of  great  service  to  the  tourist,  and  helps 
to  make  him  independent  by  fixing  his  locality  approxi- 
mately, and  aiding  to  determine  when  or  where  he  shall 
stop  for  the  day. 

From  the  mouth  of  Lobster  Stream  it  took  us  two 
hours  to  go  eight  miles,  as  far  as  Sears' s  Clearing,  a  de- 
serted spot,  where,  ten  years  ago,  a  squatter  let  daylight 
into  a  small  patch  of  ground,  and  sought  to  raise  suste- 
nance for  his  growing  family.  Then  shortly  we  reached 
the  mouth  of  Ragmuff  Stream,1  which  but  for  its  noise 
and  clatter  we  might  have  passed  by  unnoticed. 

The  guides  now  began  to  talk  about  dinner;  but  we 
decided  that,  as  our  fishing  days  were  numbered,  we  would 
go  on  to  the  Fox  Hole,  less  than  two  miles  further,  and, 
while  dinner  was  preparing,  cast  our  flies  into  that  noted 
trout-pool.  It  took  us  half  an  hour  to  reach  Big  Island, 
and,  bowling  down  the  rapids  on  its  eastern  side,  we  soon 
turned  sharply  to  the  left  into  a  narrow  channel  within 
reach  of  the  bank,  and  checked  our  course  at  the  mouth 
of  a  little  inlet  forty  or  fifty  feet  long  and  perhaps  half 
as  wide.  Several  logs,  drawn  in  here  by  the  eddying 
currents  of  high  water  in  the  spring  of  the  year,  had 
lodged  in  a  confused  mass  near  its  upper  end,  and  alto- 
gether the  spot  was  one  in  which  ninety-nine  hundredths 
of  the  passers-by  would  never  suspect  the  presence  of  a 
trout.  Cold  subaqueous  springs  are  thought  to  exist  here, 
and  if  they  do,  they  furnish  a  refreshing  retreat  to  the 

1  P'tay-week-took,  or  Pay-tay-week-took,  Burnt-Ground  Stream. 


48  WOODS   AND   LAKES    OF   MAINE. 

fish  during  the  warm  summer  months.  The  trout,  how- 
ever, is  an  uncertain  creature,  and  a  trout-pool  to-day  may 
be  an  empty  pool  to-morrow.  As  the  Captain  put  his 
rod  together,  and  fastened  to  his  leader  a  Montreal,  a 
brown-hackle,  and  a  red-ibis  fly,  Joe  quietly  said  to  him, 
"Mebbe  you  catch  plenty;  mebbe  you  don't  catch  any. 
We'll  see." 

Sartor  made  his  first  cast  into  the  middle  of  the  pool. 
No  response  from  below.  A  second  and  a  third  in  the 
same  place  were  equally  fruitless.  On  the  fourth  cast 
the  tail-fly,  the  Montreal,  landed  at  the  side  of  one  of 
the  logs  and  in  its  shadow.  A  swirl,  a  flash  from  shadow 
into  sunshine,  a  splash,  a  taut  line  and  bending  rod,  all 
followed  in  such  quick  succession  that  what  before  seemed 
an  improbability  was  now  a  certainty.  There  ivere  fish 
in  the  pool.  When  brought  to  net  the  first  catch  was 
found  to  consist  of  two  trout  of  a  pound  weight  each,  on 
the  tail  and  middle  flies  respectively. 

Sartor  repeated  his  casts  for  ten  minutes  or  more  with 
varying  success,  while  the  guides,  who  had  already  built 
a  fire  from  pieces  of  dry  drift-wood  which  lay  scattered 
about  in  profusion,  busied  themselves  with  cleaning  and 
frying  the  fish  and  preparing  the  other  courses  of  our 
meal.  Determined  to  take  "just  one  more,"  the  Captain 
made  a  vigorous  effort,  and  landed  his  tail-fly,  not  in  the 
water,  but  on  a  spruce  log,  in  whose  bark  the  hook  was 
soon  imbedded,  while  the  remaining  flies  dangled  above 
the  water  in  a  manner  too  enticing  to  be  borne  by  any 
fish  less  stolid  than  the  sucker.  The  result  was,  that  in 
a  twinkling  the  hand-fly  was  gracefully  taken  by  a  trout, 


A   MISHAP.  49 

whose  whole  length  showed  out  of  water,  the  leader 
snapped  from  the  added  strain,  and  instantly  went  out 
of  sight,  together  with  the  now  disengaged  tail-fly. 

"  Well,  now,  that  's  rather  hard  on  a  fellow,"  com- 
plained the  Captain.  "  Forty  cents'  worth  of  leader  and 
about  fifty  cents'  worth  of  flies  for  one  pound  of  trout, 
-  and  did  n't  get  the  trout  either.  They  say  it  costs  a 
visitor  to  Maine  five  dollars  a  pound,  on  the  average,  for 
all  the  trout  he  takes.  It  might  be  interesting  to  know 
what  he  pays  for  what  he  does  nt  take ;  but  I  fancy  sta- 
tistics on  the  latter  subject  would  not  be  forthcoming  as 
readily  as  in  the  former.  As  for  that  matter,  though, 
what 's  the  use,  anyhow,  of  catching  a  big  trout  or  shoot- 
ing a  moose,  unless  you  can  brag  about  it  ?  Why  does  n't 
the  legislature  change  the  game  laws,  and  let  people  shoot 
in  September  ?  They  do  so  now,  in  spite  of  the  law ;  and 
have  to  burden  their  consciences  still  further,  by  denial 
or  by  deceit,  in  their  efforts  to  escape  detection  and  pun- 
ishment. You  don't  suppose  I  'd  give  a  fig  to  kill  big 
game,  do  you,  if  I  could  n't  tell  my  friends  all  about  it  ? 
Why  then,  I  say,  can't  we  shoot  game  in  September? 
Then  a  —  " 

"  Simply,  my  dear  fellow,"  interrupted  the  person 
addressed,  "  because  the  country  is  already  full  of  men, 
whose  fish-stories  are  as  stale  as  would  be  the  poor  sub- 
jects on  which  they  are  built,  if  the  latter' s  carcasses 
had  been  given  a  like  airing.  The  responsibility  of  let- 
ting loose  upon  the  community  a  kindred  set  of  game 
story-tellers  is  more  than  any  sane  legislator  cares  to 
take,  and  this  is  precisely  what  would  happen  if  you 


50 


WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 


and  others  of  your  ilk  could  lawfully  shoot  big  game  in 
September." 

The  trout  were  now  ready,  and  four  hungry  men 
seated  themselves  as  comfortably  as  they  could,  in  near 
proximity  to  the  frying-pan.  To  the  Captain,  as  hero 
of  the  day,  was  awarded  the  use  of  our  only  bucket, 
which  on  this  occasion  served  him  as  table.  Aside  from 
its  awkwardness  on  a  carry,  the  bucket  or  firkin  is  a 


LUNCH  BY  THE   WAY. 

very  useful  and  desirable  appendage  of  a  camper's  outfit. 
It  holds  the  dishes  and  a  host  of  smaller  articles  which 
might  otherwise  become  lost  or  misplaced.  It  serves  the 
purpose  equally  well  of  table  and  stool,  while  its  cover 
is  a  meat-board  or  waiter  at  the  cook's  pleasure.  The 
others  of  us,  on  this  occasion,  contented  ourselves  with 
that  less  reliable  substitute  for  a  table,  the  lap,  but  man- 


RUNNING   RAPIDS.  51 

aged  all  the  same  to  do  ample  justice  to  the  Captain's 
trout. 

After  dinner  and  a  quiet  smoke  we  proceeded  leisurely 
down  the  river.  There  was  no  need  of  haste,  because  we 
proposed  to  camp  near  Chesuncook  Lake,  and  had  less 
than  six  miles  to  go.  From  the  head  of  Rocky  Rips,  as 
we  shot  down  into  Pine  Stream  dead-water,  we  had  a 
good  but  momentary  view  of  Mount  Ktaadn,  and  soon 
passed  the  mouth  of  Pine  Stream,1  whose  dark  water  was 
rendered  darker  still  by  the  shadows  of  the  spruces  on 
its  banks. 

At  Pine  Stream  Falls  the  river  pitches  over  several 
broken  ledges  with  much  impetuosity,  and  a  clear  head 
and  quick  arm  are  required  on  the  part  of  the  canoeman 
to  keep  his  craft  off  the  rocks  and  out  of  the  boiling 
waves  below  them.  Ordinarily,  when  the  bow  is  occupied 
by  a  person  not  a  thorough  canoeman,  the  entire  responsi- 
bility of  managing  the  canoe  rests  upon  the  man  in  the 
stern.  He  stands  erect,  one  foot  in  advance  of  the  other, 
and  his  body  turned  partly  towards  one  side.  With  his 
long-reaching  setting-pole  he  controls  his  birch's  move- 
ments, and  contrives  by  a  series  of  checks  or  "  snubs," 
rapidly  made  on  alternate  sides,  to  let  her  glide  slowly 
down.  Now  and  then  with  a  vigorous  push  from  behind 
he  makes  her  shoot  along  towards  some  better  channel, 
and  avoid  a  sunken  rock,  whose  ripple  shows  itself  a  foot 
or  more  lower  down  the  stream.  Again,  finding  the 
water  shoal,  he  backs  "quartering"  across  the  stream; 
for  he  sees  the  water  in  the  river-bed  set  that  way,  and 

1 ' Mkaza-ook-took,  Black  Stream. 


52  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

knows  that  yonder  he  will  find  the  better  channel.  The 
bow-man  sits  with  ready  paddle  to  help  attain  some  point 
of  vantage,  or  fend  the  bow  from  some  projecting  rock. 
If  a  tyro,  he  often  shudders  lest  his  craft  strike  a  boulder 
which  seems  directly  in  its  course,  but  his  guide  knows 
well  that  the  water  sets  off:  from  that  apparent  obstacle, 
and  the  current's  force  is  felt  just  as  the  canoe  seems 
about  to  strike.  The  birch  barely  escapes,  and  as  it 
glides  by  in  safety  the  bow-man  breathes  again.  Some- 
times, however,  the  iron  point,  or  "  pick,"  of  the  setting- 
pole  slips  over  a  smooth  ledge,  or  is  caught  between  two 
rocks,  and  the  pole  jerked  from  the  holder's  hands.  The 
canoe  is  quickly  at  the  mercy  of  the  rocks  and  water, 
and  escape  is  possible  only  by  some  lucky  chance.  To 
jump  overboard  is  one's  first  impulse,  but  that  is  rarely 
practicable  and  very  often  dangerous.  Whether  this  is 
done  or  not,  the  canoe,  hurried  on  by  the  swift  waters, 
strikes  a  sunken  rock,  bow  first,  quickly  swings  around 
against  another,  and  tips  its  load  pell-mell  beyond  it  into 
the  seething  rapids,  itself  perchance  a  shattered  wreck. 
Its  luckless  occupants,  if  haply  they  be  uninjured,  must 
scramble  to  the  shore,  and  they  may  be  sincerely  grateful 
for  whatever  of  their  camp  stores  may  be  saved  and  fit 
for  use. 

Two  men  accustomed  to  handle  a  canoe  can  take  it 
with  ease  up  or  down  an  ordinary  rapid.  Each  has  a 
pole,  and  stands  erect.  The  bow-man  now  selects  the 
course,  and  keeps  the  canoe  directed  in  it.  On  him  rests 
principally  the  responsibility  for  their  safety,  while  the 
stern-man's  function  is  machine-like  and  his  movements 


A  FIFTH   PASSENGEK.  55 

are  the  counterpart  of  his  companion's,  except  that  when 
going  up  over  a  difficult  "pitch"  they  become  supple- 
mentary. The  one  then  holds  the  canoe  in  a  position 
once  gained,  while  the  other  plants  his  pole  anew  for 
another  push. 

The  act  of  running  rapids  in  a  canoe  is  always  exhil- 
arating. To  a  person  of  good  nerves  who  tries  it  for  the 
first  time,  it  is  apt  to  be  nothing  but  pleasurable ;  but  one 
who  knows  its  dangers  never  enters  upon  it  without  some 
slight  fear  or  trepidation.  And  yet,  the  danger  passed, 
one  is  ever  ready  to  face  it  again  —  with  a  skilful 
steersman. 

We  passed  Pine  Stream  Falls  without  mishap  other 
than  the  shipment  of  a  little  water,  and  after  half  an 
hour's  paddling  reached  two  large  piers  in  the  river,  that 
help  sustain  the  boom  when  it  confines  the  spring  "  drive  " 
of  newly  cut  logs.  Just  beyond  the  piers  we  came  upon 
a  chipmunk  (Tamias  lysteri)  swimming  across  the  stream. 
The  little  fellow  seemed  quite  tired,  and  when  the  writer's 
paddle  was  held  out  to  him  and  he  felt  its  firm  support 
beneath  him,  half  drowned  he  walked  up  its  handle  and 
into  the  canoe.  There  he  sat  perched  upon  the  highest 
of  our  bags,  drying  his  dripping  jacket,  until  we  neared 
the  river-bank,  when  he  jumped  overboard  and  swam 
to  land. 

How  intimate  one  soon  becomes  with  the  squirrels  in 
the  woods  !  The  curiosity  with  which  from  a  low  limb  of 
some  fir-tree  they  investigate  our  intrusion  into  their 
haunts,  the  chattering  and  scolding  with  which  they  re- 
sent it,  accompanying  each  grunt-like  note  with  a  sort  of 


56  WOODS   AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

electric  twitching  of  the  hind  legs,  and  their  scampering 
around  the  tree  and  up  its  opposite  side  when  we  ven- 
ture to  move,  just  the  tip  of  the  little  head  appearing 
from  time  to  time  on  either  side  of  the  trunk  on  their 
upward  course,  —  these  are  phases  of  woods  life  with 
which  all  campers  in  Maine  are  doubtless  familiar.  These 
busy  little  creatures  are  often  seen  to  loiter  in  their  forest 
gambols,  and  even  come  down  from  their  high  perches 
among  the  spruce  cones,  to  listen  to  a  sound  made  with 
the  human  lips  that  resembles  the  squeaking  of  a  mus- 
quash. At  such  times  they  will  sit  in  perfect  silence  for 
many  minutes,  as  if  charmed,  complacently  cocking  their 
little  ears,  and  with  one  or  both  fore  feet  folded  against 
their  snow-white  breasts.  On  one  such  occasion  the  writer 
approached  a  squirrel  until  he  could  all  but  touch  him 
with  outstretched  hand,  the  little  fellow  remaining  per- 
fectly quiet. 

The  acquisitiveness  of  the  squirrel  sometimes  makes 
him  a  nuisance  even  in  the  woods.  An  incident  was 
once  related  to  the  writer  of  two  campers  who,  on  the 
morning  of  the  day  on  which  they  were  to  go  home,  left 
in  their  tent  the  only  remaining  food  they  had,  and  which 
they  intended  to  eat  for  lunch.  This  consisted  of  some 
large  home-made  soda  biscuits  wrapped  securely  in  a 
piece  of  strong  paper.  The  campers  came  back  from  their 
morning  excursion  about  noon,  tired  and  hungry  of  course, 
and  searched  everywhere  for  their  lunch.  Not  a  biscuit 
was  to  be  found,  nor  even  a  crumb  of  one.  By  a  lucky 
chance,  however,  one  of  the  men  had  a  dry  crust  in  his 
pocket,  and  when  he  and  his  companion  sat  down  to  eat 


MISSING  BISCUITS.  57 

this  outside  of  the  tent,  high  up  on  the  limb  of  a  neigh- 
boring tree  they  spied  a  red  squirrel  moving  along  with 
one  of  the  missing  biscuits  in  his  mouth ! 

From  the  piers  we  had  a  fine  view  of  Ktaadn,  and 
soon  after  passing  the  cottage  of  Ansel  Smith,  one  of  the 
Chesuncook  pioneers,  we  landed  on  the  right  bank  of  the 
stream  and  made  preparations  to  camp  for  the  night. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

PREPARATIONS  FOR  NIGHT.  —  THE  CAPTAIN'S  OPINION  ON  CAMPING. 

—  A  MISTY  MORNING.  —  CHESUNCOOK.  —  UP  THE  UMBAZOOKSKUS. 

—  SMITH'S  "JUMPER."  —  ITS  EFFECT  ON  MOOSEHEAD  GUIDES.— 
MAKING  A  PORTAGE.  —  MUD  POND  CARRY.  —  NATIVE  MODESTY. 


choice  of  one's  camp-ground  is  a  matter  of  no 
little  importance  to  the  sojourner  in  the  woods,  and 
often  requires  the  examination  of  several  sites  before  all 
the  requisites,  or  the  principal  ones  at  least,  of  a  good 
site  are  found  combined.  This  fact,  and  the  other  one, 
equally  patent,  that  no  man  can  see  well  enough  after 
dark  to  cut  or  gather  wood  sufficient  for  the  camp-fire 
all  night,  seem  to  escape  the  perception  of  the  average 
camper,  often  much  to  the  dissatisfaction  of  his  guide. 
We  made  it  a  rule,  in  our  party,  to  go  into  camp  at  or 
before  five  o'clock,  an  hour  quite  late  enough  for  October 
days,  and  yet  one  which  generally  gave  the  guides  ample 
time  to  pitch  the  tents,  cut  their  wood,  build  their  fire, 
and  prepare  for  supper,  before  the  shades  of  night  had 
enveloped  us.  The  site  chosen  for  our  second  camp  did 
not  possess  all  the  requisites  of  a  first-rate  camp-ground. 
In  the  first  place  there  was  very  little  wood  near  it,  either 
green  or  dry,  and  secondly  we  had  to  scale  a  steep  .and 
muddy  bank  to  reach  it.  The  ground  was  level,  to  be 


PEEPAEATIONS   FOE   NIGHT.  59 

sure,  but  hard  and  unyielding,  and  no  boughs  could  be 
had  for  our  beds.  We  soon,  however,  found  a  substitute 
for  boughs  in  the  long,  rank  grass  which  grew  around 
us ;  and  Joe,  in  lieu  of  a  scythe,  wielded  an  immense 
hunting-knife  which  he  wore  at  his  belt,  and  in  a  few 
moments  had  cut  enough  grass  for  both  tents.  That 
knife,  whose  blade  was  twelve  inches  long,  in  the  outset 
seemed  to  us  a  monstrosity,  and  excited  no  little  merri- 
ment from  its  uncouthness,  but  before  the  end  of  the  trip 
we  thought  better  of  it.  It  was  penknife,  butcher-knife, 
scythe,  or  axe,  as  occasion  required,  and  did  its  work  well 
in  each  capacity. 

Our  tents  were  soon  up,  "bedded  down,"  and  all  the 
luggage  from  the  canoes  stowed  away  under  them,  except 
such  as  was  wanted  immediately  by  the  cook.  A  cheer- 
ful fire  sputtered  and  crackled  between  the  tents,  whose 
openings  faced  each  other ;  and  while  Joe  began  to  prepare 
the  evening  meal,  Silas  took  the  two  canoes  out  of  the 
water  and  turned  them  over  on  their  sides  to  drain  and 
dry.  The  Captain  and  the  writer,  on  landing,  had  dis- 
covered a  large  quantity  of  luscious-looking  high-bush 
cranberries,  which  hung  in  enormous  red  clusters  from 
their  bending  stems.  We  picked  a  pailful,  and,  with  su- 
gar added,  soon  reduced  them  over  the  fire  to  a  delicious 
sauce.  The  Captain  during  the  latter  operation  had 
quietly  withdrawn  into  our  tent,  where  he  was  discovered 
on  hands  and  knees,  as  if  searching  for  something  among 
the  blankets. 

"  Looking  for  those  quarters  you  lost  out  of  your 
pocket  last  night,  Captain  ?  " 


60  WOODS  AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

"  No,  I  'm  not,  but  I  'm  going  to  give  these  quarters 
a  pretty  good  overhauling  though,  before  I  turn  into 
them,  and  I  propose  to  have,  among  other  things,  a  better 
pillow  than  I  had  last  night.  I  awoke  two  or  three 
times  —  I  was  going  to  say;  but  come  to  think  of  it, 
that  was  my  normal  condition.  At  any  rate,  I  realized 
several  times  that  I  had  doubled  up  my  ear  and  made 
a  pillow  of  that,  —  no  pleasant  sensation,  I  can  assure 
you,  —  and  it  took  me  some  time  to  get  the  creases  out 
too.  Talk  about  your  soft,  spicy  beds  of  balsam  boughs ! 
I  slept  on  bare  slats,  and  I  know  how  many,  for  I  counted 
them  at  least  a  hundred  times.  Then  there  was  a  root 
right  under  my  fifth  rib  when  I  lay  down,  which  at  first 
seemed  only  a  trifle,  but  that  root  grew  in  half  an  hour 
to  the  size  of  a  log.  If  I  turned  over  on  my  other  side, 
the  ground  under  my  hip  was  higher  than  that  under 
my  ribs,  and  I  was  soon  ready  to  collapse.  Then  I  tried 
lying  on  my  back,  but  an  industrious  spider  was  soon 
busy  connecting  my  nose  with  the  ridgepole  of  the  tent. 
After  a  while  I  managed  to  get  both  eyes  shut,  and 
was  sinking  into  a  doze  when  —  mother  of  Moses  !  —  I 
thought  a  wild-cat  was  scaling  the  tent  on  the  outside. 
What  a  fearful  noise !  Then  another  wild-cat  ran  up 
after  the  first,  and  the  first  went  down  the  opposite  side. 
I  kicked  you,  but  you  wouldn't  wake,  —  you  and  the 
guides  were  too  busy  snoring.  Heavens  !  I  would  rather 
take  my  chances  camping  on  Boston  Common  without  a 
tent.  When  finally  I  did  go  to  sleep,  it  seemed  but  a  few 
moments  before  my  feet  and  right  shoulder  were  freezing 
cold,  and  I  found  them  uncovered.  From  that  time  until 


THE  CAPTAIN'S   OPINION   ON  CAMPING.  61 

after  daylight  my  constant  prayer  was  that  the  guides 
might  soon  get  up  and  build  the  fire.  Where,  I  should 
like  to  know,  are  all  the  comforts  and  enjoyments  you 
held  out  so  alluringly  before  me  when  you  inveigled  me 
from  home  ?  I  can  rough  it  well  enough  in  the  daytime, 
but  when  it  comes  to  the  night,  I  must  say,  I'm  a  little 
particular,  and  don't  want  my  bed  on  the  side  of  a 
hill  or  on  a  woodpile.  By  the  way,  Joe,  what  were 
those  creatures  that  made  such  a  racket  on  the  tent? 
Weasels?" 

"They  must  be  —  mice,  I  think,"  replied  Joe,  "little 
fellows  with  these  little  short  tails.  They  lookin'  for 
somethin'  to  eat." 

Silas,  who  had  heard  the  Captain's  recital  of  his  first 
night's  experience  in  camp,  and  had  been  much  amused 
by  it,  now  carefully  examined  our  beds  and  freed  them 
from  every  substance  that  would  be  likely  to  obtrude 
unpleasantly  before  morning,  and  ever  afterwards  this 
was  one  of  the  attentions  he  regularly  showed  us.  We 
noticed,  however,  that  often,  when  he  seemed  on  the 
point  of  doing  us  some  unusual  favor,  Joe  would  ap- 
parently restrain  him,  and  Indian  etiquette  made  the 
younger  defer  to  the  older  guide.  As  their  conversations 
were  always  in  a  tongue  strange  to  us,  we  could  only 
infer  their  thoughts  from  their  acts,  and  our  inferences 
were  still  further  strengthened  by  the  absence  on  Silas's 
part  of  many  attentions  it  had  been  his  wont  in  pre- 
vious years  to  show. 

The  next  morning  the  writer  was  awakened  by  an 
exclamation  from  Sartor,  who  bade  him  rise  and  look  out 


62  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

upon  the  scene.  Sartor  was  already  busy  transferring 
it  to  canvas.  The  sleeping  river  at  our  feet  was  as 
smooth  as  a  mirror,  and  the  air  was  filled  with  a  light, 
impalpable  mist,  which  gave  the  landscape  a  wide-reach- 
ing and  dreamy  perspective,  toned  down  its  colors,  and 
tinged  them  with  gray.  Three  solitary  elms  drooped 
motionless  over  the  opposite  bank,  whose  low  and  bushy 
surface  extended  from  us  in  a  point  into  the  placid  lake 
beyond. 

Physically  considered,  Chesuncook  Lake  is  one  of  the 
most  interesting  lakes  on  the  course  of  the  Penobscot. 
Besides  the  latter  stream,  two  others  of  considerable 
importance  and  several  smaller  ones  flow  into  it,  which 
drain  a  large  area  and  contribute  not  a  little  to  the 
water-power  of  the  outflowing  Penobscot.  It  is  the  reser- 
voir in  which  these  various  forces  gathered  before  their 
combined  assault  upon  the  barriers  which  once  separated 
them  from  the  ocean.  With  the  exception  of  the  views 
it  offers  of  Mount  Ktaadn,  the  scenic  attractions  of  Che- 
suncook are  not  of  a  high  order.  It  presents  an  almost 
unbroken  line  of  forest  except  at  the  northern  end,  where 
for  half  a  century  a  few  sturdy  settlers  have  been  strug- 
gling with  the  wilderness,  and  have  succeeded  so  far  in 
overcoming  it  as  to  make  several  thrifty  farms. 

We  broke  camp  at  nine  o'clock,  and  paddled  quietly 
through  the  dissolving  mist  out  of  the  river  into  the 
lake,  and  across  the  latter  into  the  Caucomgomoc.1  Just 
as  we  started,  a  canoe  passed  us  in  which  were  two  men, 
one  of  whom  in  answer  to  our  inquiries  said  that  Ansel 

1  Or  Kahkoguamock,  Big-Gull  Lake. 


UP   THE   UMBAZOOKSKUS. 


63 


Smith  —  Ansel  the  younger  —  was  still  on  Mud  Pond 
Carry  with  his  horses,  and  expected  to  haul  us  over. 
After  they  had  gone,  Joe  said  the  speaker  was  Charley 
Smith,  Ansel's  brother. 

An  eighth  of  a  mile  or  less  from  its  mouth,  the 
Caucomgomoc  divides,  and  the  right  or  eastern  branch 
is  known  as  the  Umbazookskus.1  In  ordinary  summer 


UP    THE   UMBAZOOKSKUS. 

seasons,  and  when  the  gates  of  the  Chesuncook  dam  are 
up,  the  Umbazookskus  for  four  or  five  miles  from  its 
mouth  might  be  said  to  wriggle  through  the  meadows 
which  line  it  on  both  sides,  if  it  only  had  life  enough 
to  wriggle.  It  may  have  wriggled  once,  long  ago,  but 
went  to  sleep  in  the  act,  and  has  never  waked  to  stretch 
out  its  lazy  form.  Fortunately  for  us  the  Chesuncook 
gates  were  down  and  the  meadows  were  temporarily 

1  "  Meadow  Place." 


64  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

flooded,  so  that  we  took  a  straight  course  across  them 
up  the  stream.  As  we  had  been  forewarned  to  do  so 
by  Charley  Smith,  we  fired  several  shots  on  our  way  up 
the  meadows,  and  heard  an  answering  shot  from  their 
head. 

As  we  came  opposite  Big  Brook,  a  tributary  on  the 
right,  our  course  changed  decidedly  to  the  left,  and  the 
channel  seemed  to  lose  itself  among  the  rank  water  vege- 
tation, so  that  for  a  few  moments  we  were  in  doubt 
where  it  lay.  Finally  it  reappeared,  now  quite  distin- 
guishable from  the  flooded  growth  of  stunted  bushes  at 
its  side.  The  open  space  between  the  lines  of  forest  on 
each  hand  now  rapidly  narrowed,  a  strong  current  mani- 
fested itself  in  the  stream,  and  we  found  ourselves  on 
a  small  brook  opposite  a  well-worn  landing-place.  Smith's 
"jumper,"  a  rough  but  substantial-looking  two-horse  sled, 
stood  a  few  yards  from  the  water's  edge,  and  we  had  the 
choice  either  of  being  hauled  over  to  Mud  Pond  directly 
from  here,  or  of  going  up  the  stream  and  across  Umba- 
zookskus  Lake  to  the  beginning  of  Mud  Pond  Carry.  In 
the  latter  case  the  expense  would  be  less,  but  we  should 
lose  time,  as  Smith  must  bring  his  horses  to  where  the 
jumper  now  stood,  and  then  taj^e  the  latter  around  to 
Umbazookskus  Lake,  to  accomplish  which  he  would  have 
to  come  back  some  distance  over  the  carry.  As  the  morn- 
ing fog  had  turned  into  a  cold  drizzle,  we  adopted  the 
former  plan,  and  while  lunch  was  preparing  Sartor  and 
the  writer  jumped  into  a  canoe  and  paddled  down  stream 
again  to  the  edge  of  the  opening.  Here  we  built  a  small 
fire,  by  the  side  of  which,  on  his  stool  and  under  his 


MAKING  A  PORTAGE.  65 

wide-spread  white  umbrella,  Sartor  proceeded  to  "take 
down"  the  dim  and  misty  scene  before  him.  A  wide 
waste,  at  the  lower  end  of  which  the  converging  lines  of 
forest  almost  met ;  a  flat,  frizzled  surface  of  rich  dark- 
brown,  changing  to  gray  where  the  autumn  frosts  had 
stripped  it  of  its  foliage  ;  through  it  projecting  at  inter- 
vals some  gaunt  and  shapeless  tree-stem,  moss-bedecked ; 
in  the  foreground  a  bit  of  water  dotted  with  lily-pads 
and  lined  with  rushes ;  —  all  this,  enveloped  in  a  misty 
veil  and  canopied  with  dull  leaden  cloud-masses,  was 
the  Umbazookskus.  No  sound  was  there  to  break  the 
solemn  stillness,  save  the  rusty  clatter  of  the  great  blue 
heron  (Ardea  herodias),  as  he  hastened  over  us  on 
breeze-creating  wing. 

On  our  return  to  the  landing  we  fotuid  that  Ansel  had 
arrived  with  his  horses.  He  said  he  had  a  little  camp 
on  the  Umbazookskus  end  of  Mud  Pond  Carry,  had  spent 
the  past  two  months  there,  and  had  had  plenty  of  busi- 
ness. He  had  made  that  season,  as  we  afterwards  heard, 
something  like  a  hundred  and  twenty  dollars,  ready  cash ; 
a  very  respectable  sum  for  a  Chesuncook  farmer,  and  in 
fact  enough  to  make  him  comfortable  for  the  winter.  He 
had  heard  our  shots,  and  had  left  his  cainp  at  once  to 
meet  us. 

In  former  years,  before  the  appearance  of  Smith  at 
Mud  Pond  Carry,  comparatively  few  camping-parties  went 
over  that  way  to  Eagle  Lake.1  They  went  rather  up 
the  Caucomgomoc,  a  route  which  involved  two  or  three 
very  short  carries  and  a  two-mile  stretch  of  hard  poling, 


1  Pongokwahemook,  Woodpecker  Place. 
5 


66  WOODS  AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

or  they  went  to  Ripogenus,1  which  required  but  one  carry. 
In  those  days  there  "wasn't  much  to  see  on  Eagle  Lake/' 
while  Caucomgomoc  was  a  "paradise."  The  unanimity, 
however,  with  which  the  Moosehead  guides  changed  their 
opinion  when  Smith's  team  appeared  at  Umbazookskus, 
was  remarkable.  Eagle  Lake  then  became  the  bourne, 
the  Mecca,  of  all  forest  pilgrims.  According  to  the  guides 
it  was  the  stamping-ground  of  the  noble  moose,  —  where 
they  congregated  night  and  day.  Bears,  too,  were  abun- 
dant there,  A  gentleman  had  killed  three  on  one  brook. 
In  fact,  any  game  that  lived  in  the  Maine  woods  might 
be  expected  to  appear  on  Eagle  Lake  at  any  moment. ' 
Marvellous  were  the  tales  of  its  attractions,  dressed  in  all 
the  fantastic  coloring  that  only  a  second  "  Old  Ellis " 
or  "Uncle  Zeb"2  could  paint.  The  result  was  that  the 
shores  of  Eagle  Lake  nightly  gleamed  with  camp-fires,  and 
a  person  hardly  dared  fire  off  his  rifle  there  for  fear  of 
hitting  his  neighbor.  People  who  should  have  known  bet- 
ter camped  right  on  the  most  promising  hunting-grounds, 
from  which  the  noise  of  their  chopping  and  the  smell 
of  their  camp-smoke  must  have  driven  off  any  game  that 
chanced  to  be  near.  If,  however,  Smith  did  not  happen 
to  be  on  the  carry  when  a  party  arrived,  the  guides - 

1  Not  Indian.     The  Indian  name  is  Nolangamoik,  Resting  Place. 

2  Two  well-known  characters  and  hunters  of  the  Moosehead  region,  the 
latter  of  whom  still  lives.      An  amusing  anecdote  is  related  of  Old  Ellis, 
who  had  received  from  a  gentleman  with  whom  he  had  been  camping  ten 
dollars,  with  the  request  to  send  the  latter  a  good  bear-skin.    The  next  spring, 
Ellis  fell  upon  the  track  of  a  bear,  which  he  followed  for  two  or  three  days, 
without  coming  up  with  Bruin.     With  dogged  pertinacity  he  kept  on,  exclaim- 
ing at  last,  somewhat  out  of  humor,  "  Go  it,  old  Bruin,  go  it  while  ye  kin ! 
There  ain't  a  hair  on  yer  back  that  belongs  to  ye." 


MUD  POND   CAEEY.  67 

"  Well,  Eagle  Lake  was  n't  much  better  than  some  other 
places;  Caucomgomoc  was  just  as  good";  —  and  around 
they  would  turn,  and  paddle  back  over  those  five  miles 
of  dismal  inundation,  and  seek  other  hunting-grounds 
easier  of  access. 

It  did  not  take  long  after  lunch  to  arrange  our  things 
compactly  in  the  body  of  the  "jumper,"  and  swing  the 
inverted  canoes  on  ropes,  one  over  the  other,  over  these. 
The  ropes  were  fastened  to  stanchions,  which  ran  up 
from  the  edge  of  the  sled,  and  were  so  arranged  that 
one  canoe  overlapped  the  other  diagonally  without  touch- 
ing it,  a  precaution  absolutely  necessary  owing  to  the 
roughness  of  the  road.  Sartor  and  the  writer,  encased 
in  rubber  boots  and  coat,  walked  on  ahead.  The  road 
lay  through  the  dense  forest,  and,  although  wet  and 
rough  in  places,  was  quite  level,  and  much  better  than 
we  had  expected  to  find  it.  We  walked  about  two  miles 
and  a  half,  and  came  suddenly  into  the  old  carry,  six 
hundred  yards  from  where  it  leaves  Umbazookskus  Lake.1 
Mud  Pond  Carry !  What  visions  that  name  calls  up 
before  one  who  has  seen  the  carry  and  walked  over  it 
in  its  heyday,  with  a  load  upon  his  back !  when  a  well- 

1  From  observations  made  by  the  writer  with  an  aneroid  barometer, 
Umbazookskus  Lake  appears  to  be  6  7  feet  higher  than  Chesuncook,  and  25  feet 
lower  than  Mud  Pond.  The  divide  between  Mud  Pond  and  Umbazookskus 
Lake  rises  to  a  height  of  55  feet  above  Umbazookskus  and  30  feet  above  Mud 
Pond.  These  figures  are  considerably  above  those  heretofore  current,  which 
make  the  divide  between  Mud  Pond  and  Umbazookskus  only  72  feet  above 
Chesuncook.  See  Loring's  Report,  quoted  in  Greenleaf's  "Survey  of  the 
State  of  Maine,"  page  63.  The  carry  is  3,150  yards  long,  or  370  yards  short 
of  two  miles. 


68  WOODS  AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

filled  brook  adorned  each  end,  stopping  to  filter  through 
deep  miry  pools,  or  lost  for  a  time  among  the  roots  and 
moss  which  alternated  with  them.  As  on  the  Northeast 
Carry  at  Moosehead  Lake,  but  in  a  much  more  marked 
degree,  owing  to  its  naturally  softer  character,  the  soil  at 
both  ends  of  the  portage  was  cut  up  and  rapidly  wore 
away.  The  tracks  made  by  passing  teams  soon  became 
the  water-shed  of  the  surrounding  land,  whose  moisture 
seems  perennial.  These  brooks  are  likely  to  be  orna- 
ments of  the  carry  forever.  The  roots  and  stones  were 
allowed  to  remain  on  it  for  years,  partly  because  they 
furnished  a  foothold,  howsoever  slippery,  to  keep  people 
out  of  the  mire,  but  principally  because  no  one  had 
public  spirit  enough  to  remove  them.  Since  Smith's 
advent,  however,  and  the  increased  travel  that  way, 
some  improvements  have  been  indispensable.  The  road 
has  been  "bushed  out"  in  places,  so  as  to  admit  more 
sunshine,  obstructions  have  been  removed,  and  the  gen- 
eral appearance  of  things  is  bettered.  The  miry  pools  are 
generally  little  more  than  a  foot  deep,  and  under  them 
lies  a  firm  subsoil,  so  that,  with  confidence,  and  —  a 
pair  of  high  rubber  boots,  one  may  plunge  into  them 
without  danger.  Indeed,  one  passage  over  the  carry, 
with  a  light  load,  is  by  no  means  irksome ;  it  is  the 
"iteration"  that  is  "damnable." 

The  novelty  of  our  morning's  walk  and  the  primitive- 
ness  of  our  road  were  sources  of  no  little  wonderment 
to  the  writer's  companion,  whose  exclamations  from 
time  to  time  at  what  people  will  undergo  for  the  sake 
of  a  "little  fun"  were  decidedly  ironical.  His  pa- 


MUD   POND    CAEEY.  69 

tience,  which  he  had  been  in  a  fair  way  to  lose  just 
before  we  reached  the  high  ground  in  the  middle  of  the 
carry,  utterly  gave  out  when,  wading  through  the  stream 
which  formed  the  carry's  eastern  end,  he  stepped  upon 
a  rolling  pebble,  and  almost  measured  his  length  in  the 
water. 

"  I  say,"  demanded  he,  on  recovering  his  balance,  "are 
there  any  beavers  left  in  this  part  of  the  country  ? " 

"  Yes,  a  few,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Do  they  ever  wander  over  this  way  ?  If  so,  I  won- 
der they  have  n't  dammed  this  carry  at  both  ends.  I  '11 
venture  to  say  everybody  else  has  who  ever  walked  over 
it,  and  thoroughly  too.  Confusion  to  it !  There  is  n't 
money  enough  in  all  Boston  to  entice  me  into  this 
country  again." 

The  Captain,  however,  soon  regained  his  composure, 
and  in  a  few  moments  we  had  reached  the  shores  of  Mud 
Pond,  and  were  resting  quietly  on  a  log,  awaiting  the 
arrival  of  the  guides. 

We  were  now  on  the  waters  of  the  St.  John  River, 
and,  by  adoption  as  it  were,  of  the  East  Branch  of  the 
Penobscot,  or  Wassategwewick,1  as,  well.  Mud  Pond,  a 

1  The  meaning  of  this  word,  as  given  by  John  Pennowit,  is  "  place  where 
they  spear  fish"  (salmon).  The  root  wassa  primarily  means  "bright"  or 
"  sparkling,"  and  hence  there  are  those  who  say  that  Wassategwewick  means 
"  place  of  the  bright  or  sparkling  stream."  The  secondary  meaning  of  wassa, 
as  given  by  Rale,  is  "to  take  fish  by  torchlight."  As  this  meaning  is  also 
given  to  the  above  name  by  the  principal  hunters  among  the  Penobscots,  and 
as  the  stream  has  been  noted  for  its  salmon,  which  the  Indians  almost  always 
take  with  a  spear  by  torchlight,  the  writer  has  no  hesitation  in  adopting  Pen- 
nowit's  translation  as  the  proper  one. 


70  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

shallow  basin,  as  its  name  implies,  is  little  more  than  a 
mile  wide  between  the  end  of  the  carry  and  the  outflow- 
ing brook,  and  slightly  longer  than  it  is  wide.  Its 
waters  in  the  course  of  a  mile  empty  into  Chamberlain 
Lake/  the  great  reservoir  of  the  Allagash-Penobscot 
system,2  from  which  in  turn  they  flow  in  two  directions, 
towards  the  northeast  and  southeast.3 

About  four  o'clock  the  jumper  arrived,  the  canoes  and 
impedimenta  were  quickly  taken  off,  and,  as  this  spot 
was  rather  a  dismal  one  to  camp  on,  we  prepared  to  cross 
the  pond  to  the  carry  on  Mud  Pond  Brook,  where  Joe 
said  there  was  a  good  dry  spot  on  which  we  could  pitch 
our  tents.  In  reply  to  a  question  from  the  writer,  Smith, 
catching  his  breath  and  averting  his  eyes,  said  in  a  husky 
voice,  almost  a  whisper,  that  his  charge  for  hauling  our 
"stuff"  over  the  carry  was  six  dollars.  Shades  of  Cha- 
ron !  Had  Virgil  lived  in  these  latter  days,  he  never  could 
have  written,  "  Facilis  descensus  Averno,"  with  such  ferry 
charges  as  these  staring  poor  mortals  in  the  face  at  the 
very  outset  of  their  journey.  Verily,  "  0  terque  quater- 
que  beati  ....  Trojse  sub  mcenibus  altis,"  &c.  Sartor,  to 
whom  the  writer  afterwards  turned  for  sympathy,  said 
that  the  price  was  little  enough  ; .  that  he  would  n't  have 
rendered  the  same  service  for  five  times  the  money. 

On  the  farther  side  of  the  pond,  as  we  neared  the  old 
dam  at  its  outlet,  we  met  two  gentlemen  in  canoes,  with 

1  Apmoojenegamook,  or  Baamcheenungamook,  "  Cross  Lake." 

2  The  name  Allagasli  is  taken  from  Wallagaskwigamook,  the  Indian  name 
for  Churchill  Lake,  through  which  it  flows. 

3  For  an  account  of  Telos  Canal,  see  Appendix  V. 


NEIGHBOKS.  71 

their  guides.  They  were  on  their  way  back  from  a  four 
weeks'  excursion,  and  were  camping  on  the  carry  near 
where  we  afterwards  pitched  our  tents.  In  the  evening 
they  made  us  a  friendly  call,  and  an  hour  or  more 
was  spent  in  relating  to  each  other  our  experiences  in 
the  woods. 


BOUND  FOR   MUD   POND. 


CHAPTEE    V. 

BLACK  DUCKS.  —  A  MUSKRAT  HOUSE.  —  THE  MUSKRAT  AS  A  PET. 
—  CHAMBERLAIN  FARM.  —  APMOO  JENEGAMOOK.  —  INTO  PONGOK- 
WAHEMOOK.  —  EVIDENCES  OF  ILLEGAL  HUNTING.  —  SOME  BEFLEC- 
TIONS  ON  GAME  PROTECTION  AND  THE  GAME  LAWS. 


next  morning  we  broke  camp  at  eight  o'clock. 
The  clouds  of  the  day  before  were  rolling  away,  and 
the  outcoming  of  the  sun  seemed  to  promise  fair  weather. 
Silas  took  our  things  from  camp  down  to  the  lower  end 
of  the  carry,  while  Joe  and  the  writer  went  back  for  the 
canoes  and  poled  them  down  the  brook.  In  the  dead- 
water  near  Chamberlain  Lake  a  large  flock  of  black 
ducks  were  basking  in  the  sunshine,  and  diving  and 
playing  at  hide  and  seek.  They  fairly  threw  themselves 
out  of  the  water,  and  back  into  it  again  with  a  splash, 
scattering  it  about  them  in  clouds  of  spray.  Their  joy- 
ous "  Quack,  quack,  quack  !  "  added  to  the  animation  of 
the  scene,  as,  unconscious  of  our  presence,  they  continued 
their  antics.  The  black  duck  is  without  doubt  the  wild- 
est of  the  family  Anatidce  that  comes  under  one's  obser- 
vation in  Northern  Maine,  and  it  was  not  long  before 
this  flock,  at  a  note  of  warning,  a  single  "  Quack  !  "  from 
one  of  the  leaders,  fled  precipitately  from  their  play- 
ground, and  that  too  before  we  were  within  fair  rifle-shot 


A   MUSKEAT   HOUSE.  73 

of  them.  Near  the  end  of  the  carry,  at  the  edge  of  the 
brook,  we  saw  the  track  of  a  deer,  the  water  being  still 
roily. 

On  our  way  through  the  dead-water  we  came  upon 
the  newly-constructed  house  of  a  muskrat  (Fiber  zibetld- 
cus],  or  musquash,  and  stopped  to  examine  it.  It  stood 
four  feet  from  the  water's  edge,  upon  a  sort  of  soggy 
turf,  which  sank  perceptibly  at  each  step  we  took.  The 
water  in  the  brook  was  much  lower  than  the  writer  had 
seen  it  on  many  previous  occasions,  and  lower  than  it 
ordinarily  is  when  the  Chamberlain  and  Telos  dams  are 
shut,  which  frequently  happens  at  this  season.  A  foot 
more  of  water  would  have  made  the  house  uninhabitable. 
The  latter  was  four  feet  high  and  three  and  a  half  feet 
in  diameter,  and  nearly  cone-shaped.  It  consisted  of  bits 
of  fibrous  turf,  grass,  or  roots,  with  very  little  mud  or 
soil  in  it.  Small  sticks,  chips,  and  a  good  deal  of  sedge, 
were  mixed  with  the  bits  of  turf,  which  were  generally 
less  than  the  size  of  one's  fist.  They  were  laid  together 
without  apparent  architectural  skill,  and  with  his  paddle 
the  writer  easily  and  rapidly  shovelled  off  the  top  of 
the  house.  The  interior  was  about  eight  inches  high, 
and  the  floor  three  or  four  inches  above  the  water,  so 
that  the  roof  under  the  centre  of  the  structure  might 
be  said  to  be  three  feet  thick.  The  apartment  was 
crescent-shaped,  and  occupied  rather  more  than  one  half 
of  the  space  covered  by  the  erection,  being  two  and  a 
half  feet  long  by  one  and  a  half  feet  wide.  It  had  two 
entrances,  one  at  either  horn,  which  led  through  long 
passage-ways  down  into  the  brook.  The  walls  in  their 


74  WOODS   AND  LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

thinnest  part  were  six  inches  through.  The  floor  was 
strewed  with  sedge,  and  there  appeared  to  be  room 
enough  to  accommodate  from  four  to  six  rats  comfort- 
ably, although  the  writer  has  been  told  by  trappers 
that  they  never  find  more  than  two  muskrats  in  one 
house. 

The  flesh  of  the  muskrat,  or  musquash,1  is  very 
tender  and  delicate,  and  makes  a  delicious  cassambo,  or 
stew.  If  the  animal  is  properly  skinned,  there  is  no 
musky  odor  or  flavor  traceable  in  its  flesh.  It  is  often 
the  only  fresh  meat  the  tourist  can  procure.  He  shoots 
it  by  moonlight  as  it  swims  across  some  quiet  stream, 
leaving  behind  it  a  long,  spreading  wake,  or  he  takes  it 
in  traps  set  for  the  purpose.  The  open  trap  is  placed 
in  a  little  depression  made  by  the  hand  in  the  edge  of  a 
grassy  bank  near  deep  water.  The  chain  is  fastened 
securely  to  a  stick  pushed  into  the  soil,  and  short  twigs 
are  stuck  upright  on  each  side  of  the  trap  to  guide  the 
rat's  footsteps  on  to  the  treadle.  The  trap  springs, 
catches  his  leg,  and  he  jumps  back  into  the  water,  where 
in  his  struggles  to  get  free  he  almost  always  drowns. 

On  one  occasion,  while  camping  in  Maine,  the  writer 
let  his  guide  set  three  steel  musquash-traps,  to  provide  our 
table  with  a  change  of  food.  The  next  morning  we  found 
each  trap  had  taken  its  victim.  Two  of  the  musquash 
were  dead.  The  third,  more  of  a  philosopher  than  the 
others,  having  found  escape  impossible,  had  climbed  out 
of  the  water  on  to  a  log,  and  had  evidently  passed  the 

1  From  mwskaessa*  (Rale),  —  a  name  perhaps  easier  to  swallow  than 
the  other. 


THE   MUSKKAT   AS   A  PET.  75 

night  there.  As  we  approached  he  jumped  into  the  water 
again,  and,  keeping  his  head  above  the  surface,  resisted 
every  attempt  of  the  guide  to  secure  the  trap,  and  sprang 
at  his  hand  repeatedly.  Finally,  by  using  the  paddle- 
blade  as  a  guard  or  shield,  the  trap  was  detached,  and, 
with  the  musquash,  transferred  to  the  canoe.  Bunny, 
who  was  young,  probably  born  the  previous  spring,  we 
took  to  camp,  removed  the  trap  from  his  leg,  and  tied  to 
the  other  hind  leg  a  piece  of  strong  but  soft  rope-yarn, 
the  other  end  of  which  was  made  fast  to  a  tree.  Thus 
anchored,  he  slept  all  of  that  day  on  the  ground  under 
some  boughs  we  had  gathered  for  him.  In  the  afternoon 
he  ate,  with  great  avidity  and  apparent  relish,  pieces  of 
raw  and  boiled  potato,  and  the  writer  took  him  down  to 
the  lake  and  let  him  swim  along  the  shore.  At  first 
he  appeared  not  to  use  his  fore  legs  in  swimming,  —  a 
fact  said  to  be  always  true  of  the  beaver ;  but  on  a  sub- 
sequent occasion  he  was  distinctly  seen  to  use  them  for 
that  purpose.  On  the  day  of  his  capture  and  on  the  next 
morning  Bunny  was  very  docile,  never  seemed  afraid,  and 
allowed  himself  to  be  stroked  repeatedly.  In  fact,  he 
appeared  to  enjoy  it,  and  soon  became  a  great  pet.  But 
the  best  of  friends  must  part.  We  had  to  leave  our  camp 
for  several  days,  and  when  we  returned  Bunny  had  "  cut 
strings  "  and  gone.  Success  to  his  future  !  May  he  never 
fall  into  another  trap  ! 

Making  our  way  with  difficulty  through  the  tangled 
mass  of  drift-wood  which  choked  the  mouth  of  Mud  Pond 
brook,  we  entered  Chamberlain  Lake  and  struck  across 
towards  the  farm,  which  lay  N.  22°  E.  from  us.  The 


76  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

lake  at  this  point  we  thought  a  trifle  short  of  two  miles 
wide,  but  were  subsequently  told  at  the  farm  that  it  had 
been  measured  in  the  winter,  and  was  two  miles  and  forty 
rods.  The  first  clearing  on  Chamberlain  Farm,  and  on 
the  lake,  was  made  in  1846.  Much  of  the  land  on  and 
near  the  lake  then  belonged  to  D.  Pingree,  Esq.,  of  Ban- 
gor,  and  the  impetus  given  to  logging  operations  by  the 
successful  completion  of  the  Telos  Canal  rendered  the 
establishment  of  a  storehouse,  or  base  of  supplies,  in  that 
region,  not  only  expedient,  but  necessary.  The  farm, 
which  has  grown  to  large  proportions,  is  now  owned  by 
Hon.  E.  S.  Coe  of  Bangor,  and  on  it  are  raised  yearly  large 
numbers  of  cattle  and  sheep,  and  also  potatoes,  grain,  and 
vegetables.  So  well  do  sheep  thrive  there,  that  a  short 
time  before  our  arrival  one  became  so  fat  that,  in  the 
words  of  the  superintendent,  Mr.  Nutter,  they  "  had  to 
kill  him  to  save  his  life;  couldn't  lug  himself  around." 
Mr.  Nutter  also  told  us,  that,  when  the  season  was  not 
backward,  he  raised  just  as  good  corn  as  grew  anywhere 
in  the  State  of  Maine.  Good  apples  grow  there,  as  we 
proved  to  our  entire  satisfaction. 

There  are  on  the  farm,  the  year  round,  some  six  or 
eight  men,  a  jolly  and  good-natured  set.  Woman's  society 
is  seldom  or  never  vouchsafed  them,  and  they  are  catered 
to  by  a  man-cook,  —  at  the  time  of  our  visit,  a  French 
Canadian.  As  this  was  the  last  human  habitation  we 
should  see  until  we  reached  the  lower  parts  of  the  Alla- 
gash,  we  improved  the  opportunity,  and  the  cook  brought 
forth  from  hidden  storerooms  a  pan  of  rich,  delicious  milk, 
a  plate  of  fresh  cookies,  and  a  basket  of  apples.  The 


APMOOJEKEGAMOOK.  77 

guides  looked  over  their  supply  of  tobacco,  replenished  it, 
refilled  the  potato-bag,  and  ground  the  axes. 

Apmoojenegamook  is  not  an  attractive  lake.  The 
view  from  it  of  Mount  Ktaadn  and  the  Nesowadnehunk l 
Mountains,  to  be  sure,  which  grows  finer  as  one  nears  the 
northern  end  of  the  lake,  is  one  of  which  a  person  never 
tires.  It  is  true,  too,  that  from  the  high  ground  back  of 
the  farmhouse  may  also  be  seen  the  Traveller,  Trout 
Brook,  Soubungy,2  White  Cap,  Baker,  Lily  Bay,  Spencer, 
Lobster,  Toulbah,3  and  other  mountains,  but  the  lake 
itself,  surrounded  by  low,  rolling,  dense  forest-land,  and 
its  shores  rigid,  as  it  were,  and  covered  with  drift-wood, 
is  not  a  place  where  the  tourist  cares  to  stop. 

We  reached  the  dam  without  incident  of  any  kind,  and 
lunched  there.  At  the  second  dam,  an  eighth  of  a  mile 
below,  there  are  almost  always  plenty  of  trout.  The 
writer  cast  his  flies  over  the  pool  a  number  of  times,  with 
the  result  of  hooking  and  scratching  the  one  single  trout 
there  was  in  it.  The  only  things  that  fairly  got  on  to 
his  hook  were  two  sturdy  chubs. 

Silas  told  us  that  during  the  previous  year  he  was 
going  through  the  woods  near  this  dam,  and  suddenly 
came  upon  a  well-known  Moosehead  guide,  who  was 
sitting  on  a  log  with  a  shot-gun  over  his  knees.  The 

1  "  Stream  among  the  mountains." 

2  The  Indians  do  not  recognize  this  word.     The  name  they  give  for  the 
pond  or  bog  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  is  Alia  if  wkikamok'sis,  "  ground  where 
a  good  deal  of  wild  game  has  been  destroyed." 

3  Between  Caucomgomoc  and  Allagash  Lakes.     Toulbah  is  from  Tcorebe 
(Rale),  "  turtle,"  and  the  mountains  are  so  called  because  of  their  low,  flat 
shape,  as  seen  from  Chamberlain  Lake  and  elsewhere. 


78  WOODS  AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

guide  told  Silas  he  was  on  his  way  down  the  Aroostook 
with  some  gentlemen  who  were  camped  on  the  carry,  and 
they  had  sent  him  out  to  see  if  he  could  find  a  few  par- 
tridges. He'd  "be  dod-buttered,"  he  said  xo  Silas,  "if 
he  was  going  to  chase  around  them  woods."  So  he  sat 
quietly  on  his  log  until  he  thought  it  time  to  return  to 
camp,  where  he  doubtless  reported  that  game  was  very 


"  scurce." 


The  difference  of  level  between  Apmoojenegamook 
and  Eagle  Lake  is  said  to  be  twenty-one  feet  and  six 
inches.1  The  connecting  stream,  the  Allagash,  is  very 
short  at  this  point,  and  its  width  was  somewhat  enlarged 
in  1843  by  the  "  going  out "  of  the  original  dam,  built  in 
184 1.2  The  second  or  lower  dam  is  now  in  ruins.  Its 
functions,  those  of  the  lower  gate  of  a  lock,  ceased  some 
years  ago,  at  the  time  when  Chase  Dam  at  the  foot  of 
Churchill  Lake 3  was  destroyed.  The  level  of  Allagask- 
wigamook  and  Pongokwa'hemook  was  raised  by  the  lat- 
ter dam,  so  that  logs  could  be  taken  up  into  the  lock,  and 
from  there  into  Apmoojenegamook,  whence  they  went 
down  the  East  Branch  of  the  Penobscot. 

We  carried  our  canoes  past  the  lower  dam,  and  had 
soon  run  through  the  rapids  below  it,  and  were  on  Pon- 
gokwahemook.  The  surface  of  the  lake  was  smooth  and 
glassy,  and  a  haze  of  Indian  summer  hung  over  its  dis- 

1  See  pamphlet,  "  The  Evidence  before  the  Committee  on  Interior  Waters, 
on  Petition   of  Wm.  H.  Smith,  &c.,  &c.  for  Leave  to  build  a  Sluiceway  from 
Lake  Telos  to  Webster  Pond,"  page  25. 

2  Ibid.     Testimony  of  Shepherd  Boody. 

3  Allagaslcwigamook,  Bark  Cabin  Lake. 


PONGOKWAHEMOOK.  79 

tant  portions,  and  took  away  that  hardness  which  is  apt 
to  be  a  characteristic  of  many  lake  landscapes  in  the 
forest  wilderness.  The  shores  of  Pongokwahemook  are 
not  of  that  rigid  and  unbending  nature  which  is  peculiar 
to  those  of  Apmoojenegamook,  but  run  out  into  points 
and  projections,  and  form  deep,  far-reaching  bays  and 
coves,  into  which  the  canoeman  would  fain  penetrate. 
Their  borders  are  covered  with  a  growth  of  graceful 
birches,  which  have  replaced  the  earlier  pines  and  spruces 
killed  by  the  back-flow  from  Chase  Dam,  and  several 
islands  rise  out  of  the  water  in  mid-lake,  most  of  them 
covered  with  a  thick  forest  growth.  On  the  sloping  sides 
of  one  of  these,  years  ago,  an  incision  was  made  and  a 
budding  farm  ingrafted,  but  the  wound  has  grown  to- 
gether again,  and  the  scar  is  now  scarcely  visible. 


MOUTH   OF   NAHMAJIMSKITEGWEK. 

As  we  entered  the  lake,  on  our  right  at  its  head  we 
heard  the  deep  baying  of  a  hound,  followed  by  a  rifle- 
shot. Some  reckless  law-breaker  was  evidently  at  work, 
secure  from  interruption,  and  probably  from  punishment, 
at  the  hands  of  the  officers  of  the  law.  Two  miles  far- 


80  WOODS  AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

ther  on,  near  the  shore  of  Pillsbury  Island,  we  saw  a 
quarter  of  moose-meat  spoiling  in  the  water. 

The  interest  in  game  protection  in  Maine  has  lately 
received  a  decided  impulse,  which  bids  fair  to  bring  about 
a  healthy  reaction.  Several  years  ago  a  general  apathy 
prevailed  on  the  subject,  not  only  in  that  State,  but  in 
many  others  as  well.  Game  laws  were  enacted,  to  be 
sure,  but  only  to  be  laughed  at,  and  the  slaughter  of 
game,  in  and  out  of  season,  went  on  as  largely  as  before. 
Since  then,  however,  a  healthy  public  sentiment  has  been 
steadily  growing,  thanks  to  the  efforts  of  a  handful  of 
persistent  men  and  a  popular  journal,  and  humanitarians 
rejoice  to  see  that  the  wild  animals  of  the  forest  are  at 
last  deemed  worthy  of  active  and  effective  intercession, 
to  prevent  their  speedy  extermination,  or  their  capture 
by  methods  at  once  heartless  and  cruel. 

In  every  man,  who  for  the  first  time  takes  up  a  gun 
to  go  hunting,  there  seems  to  be  inborn  a  love  of  killing, 
no  matter  how  refined  or  delicate  may  be  his  instincts  in 
other  respects,  and  no  matter  what  his  education  and 
previous  surroundings.  This  instinct  leads  him  to  take 
the  life  of  wild  animals,  whether  the  dangerous  wild- 
cat or  the  defenceless  deer,  with  an  eagerness  that  is 
at  times  ferocious,  and  a  recklessness  that  is  appalling. 
He  is  not  satisfied  with  the  capture  of  one  deer  for  his 
present  needs,  but  his  impulses  lead  him  to  kill  others, 
if  more  be  at  hand,  no  matter  if  his  necessities  are 
amply  supplied,  and  no  matter  if  the  slaughtered  animals 
must  lie  in  their  tracks  and  rot.  It  is  the  same  old 
story,  on  the  plains  and  in  the  forests.  He  wanted  to 


REFLECTIONS  ON  GAME  PROTECTION.      81 

see  if  he  could  hit  them !  The  pride  of  boasting  to  his 
neighbors  that  he  shot  such  and  so  much  game,  the  satis- 
faction with  which  he  already  sees  their  admiring  faces 
turned  towards  him,  as  he  pours  into  their  straining  ears 
the  ornate  and  circumstantial  tale  of  how  he  did  it,  the 
exclamations  of  wonder  and  envy  with  which  they  look 
at  his  trophies,  —  in  a  word,  his  desire  to  become  a  hero, 
-this  indeed  must  be  the  source  of  that  wolfish  pas- 
sion. We  see  signs  of  it  in  the  public  prints,  haply 
much  less  now  than  formerly,  where  we  are  told  how  this 
man  or  that  man,  "  sportsman "  so  called,  killed  thirty 
antelope  in  one  week  in  Colorado,  or  how  some  great 
angler,  a  clergyman  perhaps,  caught  seven  hundred  trout 
in  three  days'  fishing.  We  read,  too,  of  game-protective 
societies  —  alas  !  hollow  name  —  that  have  an  annual 
hunt.  They  divide  themselves  into  two  parties ;  the 
birds  of  lake  and  forest  have  each  a  number  set  upon  its 
head,  and  these  gentlemen  amuse  themselves  by  seeing 
how  many  of  these  poor  creatures  they  can  destroy,  and 
the  side  that  accomplishes  most  of  this  devilish  work 
is  lauded  and  cheered.  Indeed,  far  from  being  actuated 
by  any  motives  of  compassion  for  the  brute  creation, 
these  so-called  game-protective  societies  seem  to  have  for 
their  chief  aim  and  function  the  prevention  of  game- 
killing  by  others,  simply  in  order  that,  at  a  given  time, 
there  may  be  more  game  to  satisfy  the  greed  of  their  own 
members. 

This  singular  and  unfortunate  instinct  to  destroy 
game  may  arise  in  part  from  a  desire  to  see  and  ex- 
amine animals  of  which  our  only  knowledge,  perhaps, 

6 


WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

has  been  gained  from  books,  and  which  have  always  been 
covered  to  our  minds  with  a  veil  of  mystery.  After  this 
desire  is  once  satisfied,  the  tendency  to  further  killing  in 
many  cases  dies  away,  and  a  feeling  of  humanity  towards 
the  dumb  creatures  takes  possession  of  us,  as  far  at  least 
as  the  gentler  or  innoxious  animals  are  concerned.  Then 
it  is  that  our  better  instincts  assert  themselves,  and 
unless  our  bread  and  butter  depend  upon  it,  we  care  little 
for  further  trophies  of  the  chase. 

The  excitement  which  invariably  comes  over  a  person, 
not  an  experienced  hunter,  when  he  suddenly  sees  game 
before  him  in  the  woods,  and  the  irrepressible  something 
which  makes  him  shoot,  occasionally  lead  him  to  break 
the  laws  entirely  without  premeditation,  and  often  in 
direct  opposition  to  previous  intent.  A  man,  too,  may 
be  suffering  for  want  of  proper  food,  and  may  take 
sparingly  of  that  provided  by  a  beneficent  Creator,  at  a 
time  when  his  fellow-men  have  said  he  shall  not  do  so. 
Certainly  there  is  enough  charity  in  the  world  to  forgive 
the  wrong  of  such  acts  as  these,  if  reparation  be  made 
or  offered.  In  and  by  themselves,  apart  from  their  being 
prohibita,  —  breaches  of  the  law,  —  these  acts  are  not 
immoral;  but  the  example  they  set  to  others,  who  are 
perhaps  less  particular  or  less  conscientious,  is  bad.  The 
law  has  been  broken,  and  the  penalty  must  be  paid  by 
all  alike,  the  high  and  the  low,  the  rich  and  the  poor. 
Otherwise  the  whole  fabric  of  game  protection  would  be 
destroyed,  and  the  law  brought  into  contempt. 

The  man,  however,  that  deliberately  and  with  pre- 
meditation transgresses  the  law,  as  for  example  by  using 


THE   GAME   LAWS.  83 

hounds  or  allowing  them  to  be  used  by  his  guide,  or  by 
hunting  by  jack-light  in  the  summer  months,  merits  no 
charity  from  his  fellow-men,  but  deserves  instead  their  un- 
qualified condemnation.  To  a  much  greater  degree  than 
in  the  case  above  stated  is  his  example  pernicious  and 
demoralizing.  His  guide  rightly  says,  "  If  this  man  can 
come  here  and  take  game  when  and  how  he  pleases,  why 
should  not  I  have  the  same  privilege?"  In  the  same 
category  should  be  placed,  too,  the  man  that  catches  and 
kills  twenty  trout,  when  ten  are  all  that  he  can  use ;  or 
the  two  men  together  that  shoot  a  second  deer,  simply 
for  the  hide  or  antlers,  when  half  of  one  deer  is  all  they 
can  possibly  eat. 

One  cause  of  the  continued  disregard  of  the  game  laws 
in  Maine  has  been  the  want  of  means,  on  the  part  of  the 
authorities,  to  enforce  them,  and  another  has  been  the 
state  of  public  sentiment,  which  has  heretofore  been  ad- 
verse to  prosecutions  and  convictions.  Many  of  the 
natives,  in  settlements  near  the  game  districts,  have  been 
so  tainted  with  old  sins  of  their  own  commission,  that 
new  breaches  of  the  law  could  not  be  punished  owing  to 
threats  of  reprisal  or  counter  prosecution.  Happily  both 
of  these  difficulties  have  been  removed,  in  part  at  least, 
and  a  new  era  is  beginning  to  dawn. 

Of  the  native  population  the  Indians  break  the  game 
laws  vastly  more,  in  proportion  to  their  numbers,  than 
the  whites,  and  this  is  only  what  might  be  expected.  It 
is  the  Indian's  nature  to  love  the  woods  and  the  excite- 
ment of  the  chase,  and  he  longs  for  them  both  with  a 
keenness  which  we  white  men,  as  a  rule,  can  scarcely 


84  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

understand.  It  is  said  that  John  Pennowit,  often  quoted 
in  these  pages  as  an  authority  on  Indian  place-names, 
when  he  was  eighty-six  years  old,  and  bowed  with  age 
and  disease,  made  his  preparations  to  go  hunting  in  the 
autumn.  The  writer  once  heard  a  Moosehead  Indian 
wistfully  and  repeatedly  exclaim,  while  detained  by  head 
winds  for  several  days  at  Chamberlain  Farm,  "I  wish 
the  wind  would  go  down :  I  want  to  get  into  camp,  and 
shoot  a  caribou  or  moose."  This  man  had  lost  nearly  all 
his  fingers,  but,  notwithstanding  his  apparent  helpless- 
ness, went  hunting  regularly  every  autumn. 

Game  protection  consists,  not  in  making  elaborate 
laws,  but  in  the  persistent  and  courageous  enforcement 
of  simple  ones.  The  game  wardens  should  be,  first  of  all, 
above  suspicion.  It  is  a  sorry  spectacle  to  see  a  warden, 
who  acts  as  guide  for  a  party  of  tourists,  help  them  kill 
a  moose  out  of  season.  Then  again,  the  wardens  must 
be  aggressive.  Their  salary  should  be  such  that  they  can 
afford  to  devote  a  great  part  of  their  time,  during  the 
close  season,  to  going  over  the  highways  of  public  travel 
through  the  forests  of  their  respective  districts.  The 
woods  of  Northern  Maine,  between  the  east  and  west 
branches  of  the  Penobscot,  are  not  likely  to  be  settled  to 
the  extent  of  driving  out  the  game  in  them  for  many 
years  to  come.  This  wilderness  is  a  vast  game  preserve, 
which  now  profits  the  people  of  Maine  many  thousands 
of  dollars  annually,  and  it  can  be  made  still  more  prof- 
itable, if  the  means  are  only  forthcoming  to  protect 
the  fish  and  game  in  it.  There  are  many  persons 
deeply  attached  to  these  fair  lakes  and  streams,  and 


THE   GAME   LAWS.  85 

noble  forests,  who  visit  them  yearly  and  take  their 
friends  there.  If  they,  one  and  all,  will  by  their  ex- 
ample join  in  the  efforts  to  have  the  laws  respected, 
and  will  take  sparingly  and  humanely  of  the  bounties 
of  Nature's  providing,  it  will  do  more  towards  game 
protection  and  game  culture  than  the  penal  legislation 
of  ten  years. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   LOON   CONSIDERED   MUSICALLY  AND  OTHERWISE. — CAMP  ON 
NAHMAJIMSKITEGWEK.  —   HORNETS     AND     MAPLE- SUGAR.  — 
VISITORS.  —  AN  EXCURSION  TO  HAYMOCK  LAKE.  —  ROUGH  WA- 
TER. —  ALLAGASKWIGAMOOK.  —  THROUGH    THE    BREAKERS.  - 
GUIDES.  —  INDIANS  vs.  WHITES. 

/<"\NWABD  we  floated  over  the  unruffled  surface  of 
^^^  Pongokwahemook.  From  the  top  of  an  immense 
dead  pine-tree  on  Pillsbury  Island  flew  a  bald  eagle 
(Haliaetus  leucocephalus],  which  mounted  in  a  graceful 
spiral  higher  and  higher,  until,  a  mere  speck  in  the  sky, 
it  became  scarcely  distinguishable.  Far  out  on  the  lake 
we  heard  the  warning  cry  of  a  loon  (Colymbus  tor  qua- 
tus),  whose  white  breast,  unusually  conspicuous  above 
the  smooth  water,  seemed  twice  its  ordinary  size,  —  a 
phenomenon  probably  due  to  mirage. 

The  loon  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  the  ordinary 
features  of  camp  life  that  come  under  one's  observation 
among  the  lakes  of  Maine.  Every  lake,  and  almost  every 
pond  not  too  small  for  its  safety,  contains  one  loon,  at 
least,  if  not  a  family  of  them.  We  see  them  constantly, 
or  hear  their  weird  cries  at  all  hours  of  the  day,  and  at 
night  too.  At  early  morn  they  circle  the  shores  in  search 
of  food,  and  at  these  times  often  come  close  to  our  camp. 


THE  LOOK  CONSIDERED  MUSICALLY.  87 

Or  perhaps  at  mid-day,  attracted  by  the  unusual  sight  of 
an  overturned  canoe,  or  of  a  tent  whose  white  canvas 
gleams  through  the  trees,  they  approach  to  make  a  closer 
observation,  for  the  loon  is  an  inquisitive  bird.  Quietly 
they  swim  on,  warily  looking  from  side  to  side,  now 
stopping  in  their  course,  or  sheering  off  a  little,  then 
again  advancing,  until,  satisfied,  they  go  elsewhere  about 
their  proper  business,  —  whatever  that  may  be.  On  a 
large  lake  the  loon  seems  indifferent  to  the  presence  of 
man,  or  even  of  such  noisy  things  as  steamboats,  unless 
perhaps  it  is  accompanied  by  its  young.  Then  it  is 
always  in  a  flutter,  and  we  hear  its  anxious  "  Hoo-hoo- 
hoo,  hoo-hoo-hoo  !  "  as  if  it  were  in  great  alarm.  This  is 
especially  true  on  a  small  pond.  The  din  it  then  makes 
is  incessant,  and  resounds  from  shore  to  shore,  gaining 
strength  as  it  goes. 

Far  from  being  a  "foolish"  bird,  the  loon  often  ex- 
hibits much  cunning.  When  disturbed,  the  parent  and 
its  young  swim  off  in  different  directions,  the  latter  seek- 
ing seclusion  near  some  reedy  shore,  while  the  former 
tries  to  draw  attention  to  itself.  When  pursued  it  dives 
repeatedly,  and  on  reappearing  exposes  only  its  head 
above  water.  Sometimes,  too,  it  doubles  on  its  pursuers, 
or  rather  under  them,  and  often  thus  escapes  most  mys- 
teriously from  their  sight.  Undoubtedly  the  loon's  repu- 
tation for  being  "  silly"  or  "  crazy  "  1  is  due  to  its  cry  of 
alarm,  which,  oft  repeated  by  a  single  bird,  or  in  chorus 
by  several  of  them,  may  sound  to  some  ears  maniacal. 

1  Possibly  a  popular  error,  the   Scotch  word  loun,  or  loon,  meaning  "  a 
stupid  fellow." 


88  WOODS  AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

This  cry  is  certainly  at  times  exasperating  to  the  hunter 
on  the  lookout  for  game,  however  little  in  fact  the  latter 
may  be  disturbed  by  it. 

Subjectively  the  loon  seems  to  have  been  little  studied, 
but  its  different  notes  furnish  us  with  abundant  material 
to  interpret  its  varying  moods.  Its  cry  of  alarm,  and 
its  shrill  note  when  on  the  wing,  are  probably  by  many 
persons  supposed  to  be  the  only  ones  it  utters,  the  expres- 
sion of  its  joy  and  affection  being  entirely  overlooked. 
Its  notes  are  more  significant  than  those  of  many  other 
birds,  at  times  merry,  tender,  dreary,  or  full  of  fear,  but 
almost  always  musical.  Take  the  most  common  cry, 
with  its  several  variations, 

Allegro. 

cd 

or 


Whu    -    u    -    hu  -  hu! 


each  note  short  and  crisp.      This  indicates  ordinary  sur- 
prise or  alarm,  while  in 

Allegro.  Allegro. 


or 

Hu-hu  -  wey  -  u!  ^       Hu-hu  -  wey-i-ooo! 

the  alarm  seems  to  be  increased. 

At  night  the  camper  often  hears,  the  second  and  third 
notes  slurred,  and  often  flat, 

Andante.  Andante. 

or 


Hu-16o    -    iih!  Hu  -  loo    -    oo! 


THE   LOON   CONSIDEEED   MUSICALLY.  89 

sometimes  supplemented  by 

Andante. 


Loo  -  eee! 

These  dreary  night  cries  are  startling,  and  sound  like 
those  of  a  child  in  distress.  They  may  be  plaintive  utter- 
ings  to  the  orb  of  night,  or  the  outcome  perhaps  of  the 
bird's  disturbed  slumbers.  Weird  enough  they  seem,  thus 
breaking  the  solemn  stillness  of  the  forest  aisles. 

Again  at  night  there  comes  softly  over  the  water  a 
single  note,  full  of  tenderness,  like  the  cooing  of  a  mother 
to  its  young,  a  short  gentle  "  Hu ! "  or  sometimes  the 
longer  "  Hu-whu'-oo  !  "  in  low,  plaintive  tones.  These 
sounds  the  writer  has  heard  repeatedly  on  ponds  where 
there  were  known  to  be  families  of  loons,  and  the  sounds 
seemed  too  full  and  mature  to  come  from  other  than  the 
old  birds. 

By  far  the  most  interesting  manifestation  of  the  loon's 
feelings,  however,  is  the  cry,  sometimes  heard  late  in 
the  summer,  but  oftener  in  the  springtime,  in  that  joy- 
ous season  when  all  nature  is  bright,  and  our  bird,  happy 
in  his  old  haunts  perhaps,  or  with  his  mate  or  new-born 
offspring,  rings  forth  with  a  merry  swing  his 

Andante  con  moto. 

Oh  -  oo    -    whi-oo    -    hoo-wi,        whi-oo     -     hoo-wi,        whi-oo     -     hoo-wi   ! 

Who  will  say,  then,  that  the  loon  has  no  feelings 
kindred  with  our  own,  consign  him  to  a  place  among  the 


90  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

insensates,  and  let  his  only  function  be  to  serve  as  a  tar- 
get for  the  wandering  bullets  of  summer  tourists  ? 1 

After  having  inspected  some  camp  grounds  on  the 
island,  and  not  having  found  them  to  our  liking,  on  Joe's 
recommendation  we  went  to  the  mouth  of  Smith  Brook,2 
where  we  found  a  very  good  site.  Unfortunately,  it 
appeared  to  be  occupied,  or  partly  so,  for  a  tent  stood 
on  it,  in  which  were  a  few  cooking  utensils  and  some 
clothing,  and  appearances  generally  indicated  that  the 
owners  had  been  gone  for  a  day  or  two,  and  might  be 
expected  to  return  at  any  moment. 

Among  other  things,  in  plain  sight  from  the  lake, 
were  three  wooden  frames  made  by  Indians  from  the 
stems  of  young  birch-trees,  and  on  which  evidently  had 
been  stretched  and  dried  the  skins  of  some  large  animals. 
To  a  tree  opposite  the  tent,  and  about  four  feet  from  the 
ground,  was  nailed  a  small  box,  the  open  end  of  which 
faced  side  wise,  instead  of  upwards,  —  a  covered  shelf. 
In  it  was  a  quantity  of  maple  sugar.  An  attempt  to 
take  out  a  cake  of  the  sugar  disturbed  and  dislodged 
a  horde  of  hornets,  which,  secreted  on  the  inside,  had 
been  feasting  on  the  sweets.  Truly,  "  there  is  no  new 
thing  under  the  sun."  Sugar  and  hornets  in  combina- 
tion, in  the  woods  as  well  as  in  the  outer  world.  Only 
the  sugar  is  visible  until  it  is  stirred  up,  when  the  hor- 
nets come  to  the  surface.  There  is  one  difference,  how- 

1  It  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  musical  expression  of  the   loon's  cries 
here  attempted,  is  exact  and  accurate.     The  writer  simply  wishes  to  give  a 
general  idea  of  those  cries,  as  nearly  as  he  can  reproduce  and  represent  them. 
2  Nahmajimskitegwek,  "  the  dead-water  extends  up  into  the  high  land." 


EXCUESION   TO   HAYMOCK   LAKE.  91 

ever.     Here  in  the  wilds  the  two  components,  sugar  and 
hornets,  may  be  separated,  and  the  latter  driven  away. 

We  fancied  we  knew  the  owner  of  the  strange  tent, 
and  as  he  was  a  friend  we  forthwith  pitched  our  tents 
alongside.  A  light  rain  had  begun  to  fall,  and  a  can- 
opy was  improvised  over  the  rough  table,  at  which  we 
were  soon  eating  supper.  In  the  midst  of  our  meal, 
the  clatter  of  a  paddle  was  heard  on  the  rocks  at  the 
landing,  and  in  a  moment  the  face  of  a  stranger  peered 
at  us  through  the  dimness  of  our  candle-light.  Thinking 
him  a  belated  canoeman  in  search  of  shelter,  we  bade 
him  welcome,  told  him  to  make  himself  perfectly  at  home, 
and  invited  him  to  a  share  of  our  supper.  Imagine  our 
petrifaction  at  learning  that  he  was  the  owner  of  the 
strange  tent,  and  of  course  by  courtesy  the  lawful  pos- 
sessor of  these  premises,  pro  hac  vice,  as  the  lawyers  say, 
while  we  were  really  trespassers.  That  made  little 
difference,  however,  and  we  were  soon  on  very  good 
terms,  —  a  matter  of  course  among  gentlemen  that  fall 
together  in  the  woods. 

The  next  day  was  devoted  to  an  excursion  up  Nahma- 
jimskitegwek  to  Hay  mock  Lake.1  Sartor  preferred  to  re- 
main behind,  and  said  he  could  get  his  dinner  himself ; 
so  both  guides  accompanied  the  writer.  The  day  was 
warm  and  bright,  and  Nature  looked  her  best.  When 
once  over  the  various  beaver  dams  and  above  the  carry, 
we  found  a  long  stretch  of  dead-water.  The  stream 
widened,  and  its  sluggish  course  took  it  through  a  hack- 

1  This  name  was  probably  taken  by  white  men  from  the  last  two  syllables 
of  the  Indian  name  for  Eagle  Lake,  " 


92  WOODS  AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

niatack  bog.  The  bright  green  of  the  larches,  fading 
away  in  the  clear  sunlight  to  a  yellowish  autumn  hue, 
was  in  strong  contrast  with  the  darker  green  of  the 
spruces,  while  the  scrub-willows  and  other  bushes  that 
covered  the  bog,  had  put  on  a  reddish-brown,  that  be- 
tokened the  approach  of  winter.  On  the  way  up,  Joe 
pointed  out  to  us  a  spot  where  he  had  once  "  called "  a 
moose  for  a  gentleman,  but  the  old  bull,  after  having 
come  almost  within  sight,  grew  suspicious  and  went  off. 

On  our  way  back  to  camp  we  picked  a  quantity  of 
swamp-cranberries,  which  grew  in  abundance  near  the 
mouth  of  the  brook.  That  evening  the  Captain  gave 
us  a  funny  account  of  his  attempts  to  cook  dinner,  and 
showed  us  as  the  result  of  his  day's  work  three  very 
pretty  little  sketches.  We  afterwards  made  observations, 
by  which  we  calculated  roughly  that  the  magnetic  varia- 
tion of  the  compass  for  this  place  was  twenty-two  degrees. 

The  next  morning  we  left  camp  in  the  face  of  a  rising 
wind.  Eounding  the  point  below  the  mouth  of  the 
brook,  we  soon  came  to  one  of  the  widest  parts  of  the 
lake,  across  which  the  wind  had  full  sweep,  coming 
broadside  on.  The  waves  grew  momentarily  more  threat- 
ening, a  white-cap  every  now  and  then  dashing  against 
our  bows,  and  breaking  into  our  laps.  While  we  had  no 
fears  for  our  personal  safety,  there  was  great  apprehen- 
sion lest  the  flour  and  other  provisions  might  become 
wet  and  unfit  for  use.  By  taking  the  waves  on  the 
quarter,  however,  and  paddling  with  all  the  energy  we 
possessed,  we  managed  to  reach  a  quiet  haven  behind  a 
bluff  at  the  narrows,  and,  stepping  out  upon  a  beautiful 


KOUGH  WATEK. 


93 


little  sand-beach,  we  soon  dried  our  wet  garments  and 
bailed  out  the  canoes.  At  this  point,  which  is  in  many 
respects  the  most  attractive  one  on  Pongokwahemook, 
the  water  was  as  serene  and  placid  as  if  no  wind  were 
blowing ;  and  ere  we  were  ready  to  go  on,  we  had  per- 
suaded ourselves  that  the  wind  we  had  lately  felt  was 
only  a  squall,  and  that  our  further  passage  would  be 


AMONG  THE   WHITE-CAPS. 

smooth.  In  this,  however,  we  had  mistaken ;  for  on 
leaving  the  narrows  and  entering  mid-lake  again,  we 
found  the  wind  quite  as  strong  as  it  had  been,  and  the 
sea  even  rougher  than  before.  Our  course  this  time,  how- 
ever, lay  more  with  the  wind,  and,  by  keeping  the  canoes 
diagonally  across  the  trough  of  the  waves,  we  were  car- 
ried speedily  along  with  the  latter,  and  soon  reached  the 


94  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

thoroughfare.  Here,  on  the  west  side,  about  a  mile  from 
Thoroughfare  Brook/  and  sheltered  from  the  wind,  we 
stopped  for  lunch. 

This  thoroughfare,  about  two  and  a  half  miles  long, 
connects  Eagle  Lake  with  Churchill  Lake,  and,  with  the 
exception  of  a  slight  current  at  the  outlet  of  the  former, 
is  virtually  "  dead-water."  On  its  west  side  the  land  is 
mostly  low  and  flat,  and  was  overflowed  to  a  great  extent 
at  the  time  Chase  Dam  was  in  use.  As  a  consequence,  a 
forest  of  dead  trees,  or  "  rampikes,"  bristles  on  that  side, 
and  makes  a  picture  of  dreariness.  But  this  was  moose- 
ground,  and  as  we  continued  on  our  way  past  it  not  a 
word  was  said,  and  all  eyes  intently  scanned  the  grassy 
undergrowth  on  our  left,  in  the  hope  that  we  might  see 
some  game.  We  were  now  in  October,  and  our  appetites 
were  whetted  not  a  little  by  this  fact,  but  perhaps  more 
by  the  fact  of  our  long  and  enforced  abstinence  from 
fresh  meat.  The  Captain's  formidable  revolver  lay  before 
him,  ready  to  be  called  into  use  at  any  moment.  This 
time,  however,  no  moose  exposed  themselves,  or  if  they 
did,  we  did  not  see  them. 

We  passed  the  mouth  of  Thoroughfare  Brook,  and  in 
a  few  moments  more  were  at  the  head  of  Allagaskwiga- 
mook,  or  Churchill  Lake.  The  wind  during  the  past  few 
hours  had  increased  greatly  in  intensity.  Our  course  now 
would  lie  directly  with  it  for  nearly  three  miles,  and 
although  the  water  immediately  about  us  was  pretty 
smooth,  we  knew  there  must  be  a  heavy  surf  on  the 

1  Sahbimskitegwek,  "  a  branch  or  stream  that  empties  between  two  large 
bodies  of  water." 


ALLAGASKWIGAMOOK.  95 

beach  at  the  lower  end  of  the  bay,  where  we  wanted  to 
land;  and  it  became  a  serious  question,  whether,  even 
if  we  should  escape  swamping  before  reaching  shore,  we 
could  even  then  land  without  injury  to  the  canoes,  or 
without  being  overwhelmed  by  the  breakers.  Silas,  who 
never  was  perfectly  at  ease  on  an  open  lake  on  a  windy 
day,  said  he  thought  we  would  better  not  go  on,  but 
rather  camp  near  where  we  were.  Joe  was  non-com- 
mittal, but  finally  said  we  could  make  the  attempt ;  and 
as  the  prospect  of  losing  half  a  day  was  not  over  pleasing 
to  the  rest  of  the  party,  the  word  was  given,  and  on  we 
went. 

For  more  than  two  miles,  and  until  we  were  within  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  shore,  all  was  delightful.  The 
wind  drove  us  onward  without  much  paddling  on  our 
part,  and  we  were  rapidly  closing  up  the  gap  between 
ourselves  and  the  land ;  but  now  the  waves  became  for- 
midable indeed,  and  the  cove  before  us  seemed  a  mass  of 
mad,  seething  breakers.  Ketreat  was  impossible,  and  we 
looked  each  at  the  other's  canoe,  to  see  how  it  was  bear- 
ing the  strain,  and  shouted  words  of  mutual  encourage- 
ment. As  each  on-coming  wave  seemed  about  to  engulf 
our  canoe,  Silas  swung  the  bow  around,  and  we  were 
lifted  up  and  forward  safely,  with  the  shipment  of  only 
a  little  water.  Joe's  canoe  was  not  so  fortunate,  for  the 
"  gunwales  "  were  lower,  owing  either  to  the  form  of  the 
canoe,  or  to  its  being  loaded  more  heavily  than  ours,  and 
two  or  three  wave-tops  swashed  over  the  side  and  threat- 
ened to  swamp  it.  We  were  now  almost  on  the  shore, 
and  laying  aside  his  paddle,  with  one  hand  forward  on 


96  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

the  rail,  the  writer  crouched  in  his  place  ready  for  a  long 
spring.  The  moment  arrived  at  last,  and  as  he  felt  the 
canoe  touch  the  sand,  he  jumped  forward,  grasped  the 
bow  and  pulled  with  all  his  might,  while  Silas,  taking 
advantage  of  another  wave,  gave  one  more  push,  and  in 
a  moment  more  we  had  the  craft  high  and  dry  on  the 
sand,  and  were  gratified,  on  looking  around,  to  see  that 
the  others  had  made  an  equally  successful  landing. 

It  was  now  half -past  two  o'clock,  and  although  we 
ourselves  had  hoped  to  go  farther,  the  guides  evidently 
had  no  idea  of  doing  so,  for  they  proceeded  to  pitch 
the  tents  and  get  fire-wood  for  the  night.  Each  of  them 
subsequently  took  a  load  over  to  Marsh  Pond,  and  made 
some  betterments  on  the  carry,  so  that  no  time  was  really 
wasted.  In  this  particular  instance  neither  the  Captain 
nor  the  writer  made  any  remonstrance  nor  asked  any 
questions,  as  we  preferred  to  see  how  things  would  turn 
out,  and  waited  to  assert  our  authority  on  some  occasion 
when  interference  might  be  more  necessary. 

The  experience  of  having  two  guides  in  the  party  was 
somewhat  new  to  the  writer,  as  for  several  years  previ- 
ously he  had  made  his  forest  excursions  alone  with  his 
faithful  Silas.  However  much  a  man  may  be  inclined  to 
rely  on  his  guides,  and  follow  their  suggestions,  he  does 
like  to  have  his  wishes  consulted  by  them.  With  two 
guides,  especially  if  they  speak  a  strange  language,  a  man 
feels  very  much  like  a  figure-head.  Even  if  conscientious 
in  other  respects,  they  are  apt  to  lay  out  their  own 
programme,  and  by  well-timed  suggestions,  or,  if  these 
fail,  then  by  what  is  known  as  "  hanging  back,"  uncon- 


GUIDES.  97 

sciously  force  one  to  carry  it  out.  The  writer  does  not 
mean  to  have  it  inferred  that  his  guides  on  this  trip  re- 
sorted to  either  of  these  bad  practices,  but  make  plans 
from  time  to  time  they  certainly  did,  —  a  thing  in  itself 
quite  natural,  and  not  necessarily  objectionable. 

Hanging  back,  in  its  worst  sense,  is  never  resorted  to 
by  competent  and  faithful  guides.  They  are  up  before 
sunrise,  attend  to  the  daily  repairing  of  their  canoes  early 
in  the  morning,  during  enforced  pauses  between  other 
duties,  and  are  quick  about  packing  up  and  leaving  camp. 
They  paddle  briskly,  and  keep  it  up  until  a  reasonable 
and  seasonable  hour,  and  in  turn  expect  reasonable  treat- 
ment from  their  employers.  But  the  hang-back  guide, 
on  the  other  hand,  gets  up  in  the  morning  when  he  hap- 
pens to  feel  like  doing  so.  He  builds  the  fire  leisurely, 
and  wonders  what  to  cook  for  breakfast.  He  overhauls 
the  entire  kit,  and,  by  the  time  the  meal  is  ready,  eight 
o'clock  has  come.  After  breakfast  he  finds  that  he  has 
no  hot  water  for  dish-washing,  and,  while  the  pot  is 
waiting  to  boil,  he  lies  back  leisurely  smoking  his  pipe. 
Meantime  the  tourist  has  perhaps  done  much  towards  get- 
ting the  luggage  packed,  and,  when  all  is  finally  down 
at  the  landing,  the  guide  suddenly  remembers  that  his 
canoe  needs  "pitching."  The  embers  of  the  camp-fire 
must  be  brought  to  life  again,  the  pitch  melted,  and  the 
canoe-bark  dried.  These  delays  and  this  dawdling  are 
vexatious  in  the  extreme,  and  in  some  few  cases  are  in- 
dulged in  for  the  sole  purpose  of  prolonging  the  period 
of  the  guide's  engagement,  or  of  preventing  him  from 
getting  too  far  away  from  home  and  into  the  neighbor- 


98  WOODS  AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

hood  of  carries.  He  will  try  to  persuade  you  by  loud 
talking,  embellished  with  oaths,  that  certain  places  are  too 
difficult  of  access  to  be  reached ;  and  if  you  insist  upon 
trying,  the  chances  are  that  he  will  lose  his  temper  and 
become  sulky.  Again,  some  indispensable  article,  as  for 
instance  the  axe,  will  be  left  behind,  and  its  absence  acci- 
dentally (?)  discovered  two  hours  later,  when  the  party  is 
not  too  far  advanced  to  send  back  or  to  go  back  for  it. 

Pages  might  be  written  on  the  many  deceptions  prac- 
tised by  men  who  profess  to  be  honorable  guides;  —  of 
engagements  broken  on  receipt  of  better  offers  from  else- 
where ;  of  demands  for  higher  wages  than  those  previ- 
ously agreed  upon,  —  at  a  time,  too,  when  to  refuse  the 
demands  would  be  disastrous  to  one's  plans ;  of  deliber- 
ate falsehoods  told  to  avoid  a  little  hard  work ;  and  of 
a  thousand  other  ways  of  embittering  the  visitor's  stay. 
Heaven  help  the  man  that  falls  into  the  clutches  of  such 
guides  as  these !  Happily,  there  are  but  few  of  them 
left,  in  the  Moosehead  region  at  least. 

Another  species  of  guide  often  met  with  is  the  hon- 
est, good-natured,  but  improvident  fellow,  who  always 
fills  the  teapot  up  to  the  brim  for  every  meal,  and  with 
a  decoction  strong  enough  to  shake  the  steadiest  nerves, 
although  he  knows  that  not  more  than  two  thirds  of  it 
will  be  drunk,J  and  then  deliberately,  but  invariably, 
throws  the  remainder  into  the  fire.  The  camp  table  before 
each  meal  groans  beneath  its  generous  load :  after  meal- 

1  The  writer  says  this  advisedly,  although  he  is  aware  that  it  takes  a 
pretty  big  pot  to  exhaust  the  tea-drinking  capacities  of  the  average  back- 
woodsman. 


INDIANS   vs.   WHITES.  99 

time  it  often  looks  as  if  a  famine  had  swept  the  land. 
You  and  your  guide  eat  abundantly  and  heartily,  after 
which  the  guide  dumps  on  his  own  plate  the  food  that 
is  left,  and  eats  it,  in  order  that  it  may  not  be  "wasted"! 
or,  more  rarely,  he  puts  it  carefully  into  a  corner  some- 
where, and  on  the  next  day  throws  it  away.  If  you 
remonstrate  with  him,  he  will  smile  pleasantly,  and  repeat 
his  improvidence  at  the  earliest  opportunity.  Your  pro- 
visions vanish  long  before  the  proper  time,  and,  if  your 
eyes  have  not  witnessed  the  extravagance  that  was  going 
on  daily,  you  mentally  blame  the  person  who  told  you 
what  quantity  of  food  to  take  with  you.  The  result  is 
that  you  reach  your  goal,  and,  instead  of  having  a  quiet 
rest  there,  you  must  hasten  back  to  avoid  starvation. 

The  writer's  experience  in  Maine  forests,  both  with 
white  and  Indian  guides,  extends  over  a  period  of  thir- 
teen years.  As  canoemen  on  rivers,  the  Indians,  as  a 
class,  cannot  be  surpassed.  As  hard  workers  and  will- 
ing workers,  the  few  who  have  served  him  have  been 
without  equals;  but  it  is  a  fact  worthy  of  notice  that 
they  all  had  some  white  blood  in  their  veins.  As  a  rule, 
the  Indian  lacks  volition,  the  absence  of  which  is  often 
as  objectionable  as  the  presence  of  its  opposite,  too  much 
self-will.  Putting  the  two  races  side  by  side,  there  need 
be  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  an  experienced  Indian 
hunter,  strong,  willing,  and  respectful,  is  the  most  profit- 
able and  instructive,  and  withal  the  most  agreeable  guide 
that  one  can  have.  Sincerity  bids  the  writer  add,  how- 
ever, that  these  characteristics  are  not  commonly  found 
united  in  the  same  person,  white  or  Indian. 


100  WOODS  AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

Into  Allagaskwigamook,  within  a  few  rods  of  our 
camp,  flowed  two  brooks,  one  on  each  side.  They  are 
called  the  "  Twins/'  and  the  more  northern  one  comes 
from  Spider  Lake,  or  Allagaskwigamooksis.1  This  brook 
is  usually  too  low  to  make  canoe-navigation  profitable, 
and  parties  going  up  it  get  along  faster  by  using  the 
carry  which  runs  along  its  left  bank.  On  the  afternoon 
of  our  arrival  at  Allagaskwigamook,  Sartor  and  the 
writer  strolled  over  the  carry.  There  were  few  signs  of 
recent  travel  there,  and  we  did  an  hour's  work  "bush- 
ing "  out  the  path,  in  order  that  our  labors  might  be  less 
severe  on  the  following  day.  The  guides,  after  looking 
the  ground  over,  decided  that  they  would  try  to  get  up 
the  stream  with  the  canoes,  and  would  first  carry  the 
"stuff"  over  on  their  backs. 

1  The  diminutive  of  Allagaskwigamook. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE  INDIAN  PACK.  —  How  TO  GET  OVER  A  CARRY.  —  AN  ARTIST  IN 
THE  AIR.  —  THROUGH  TO  ALLAGASKWIGAMOOKSIS.  —  IN  CAMP. 
—  ACQUAINTANCE  WITH  THE  CHUBS.  —  LOST  IN  THE  WOODS.  — 
MAHKLICONGOMOC.  —  CARRYING  A  CANOE.  —  CANVAS  vs.  BIRCH. 

~\T7"E  awoke  early  the  next  morning  to  find  a  heavy 
mist  hanging  over  Allagaskwigamook.  The  sun 
soon  broke  through  it  here  and  there,  making  fantastic 
forms  and  fairy-like  imagery.  Now,  part  of  the  denser 
cloud-mass  would  momentarily  roll  aside,  and  indistinctly 
expose  to  view  the  tops  of  some  distant  pine-trees,  which 
grew  as  it  were  out  of  the  vapor  sea,  and  whose  mist- 
bespangled  branches  gave  back  a  thousand  glittering 
rays.  Again,  a  mist-bow  appeared,  in  the  form  of  the 
rainbow,  but  without  its  colors ;  and  finally  the  whole 
mantle  of  fog  rose  and  floated  away  before  the  morning 
breeze. 

After  breakfast  Sartor  went  over  the  carry  alone, 
leaving  the  rest  of  us  to  follow  later.  As  this  was  our 
first  carry  of  any  consequence  where  we  should  have  no 
horses  to  help  us,  the  camp  equipage  was  more  carefully 
arranged  than  before,  and  the  guides  made  up  two  packs, 
the  favorite  means  among  the  Indians  of  transporting 
their  effects  through  the  woods. 


102 


WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 


An  Indian  pack  is  a  heterogeneous  thing,  and,  like 
the  historic  mince-pie,  it  is  generally  composed  of  a  little 
of  everything  there  is  on  the  premises.  The  tent  usu- 
ally forms  the  groundwork,  and  across  it  on  either  side 
of  its  centre  are  laid  the  two  ends  of  a  long  double  strap, 
—  which  may  be  made  of  leather,  or  of  a  piece  of  the  in- 
ner bark  of  the  cedar,  —  tapering  from  the  centre  to  each 


JOE   MAKING  A   PACK. 

end.  These  strap-ends  are  laid  a  little  farther  apart  than 
the  intended  width  of  the  pack,  and  in  parallel  lines, 
leaving  a  margin  of  tent  more  than  a  foot  wide  outside 
of  each  of  them.  The  margins  are  then  folded  over  the 
straps,  and  may  or  may  not  meet  or  overlap  along  the 
centre  of  the  tent.  We  now  have  spread  out  before  us 
what  for  purposes  of  this  description  may  be  called  the 
"pack-cloth."  It  is  long  and  narrow,  and  at  its  upper 


THE   INDIAN  PACK.  103 

end  we  see  a  wide,  continuous  strap,  which  extends  from 
side  to  side,  and  disappears  at  the  corners  under  its  folds. 
The  strap  then  runs  along  the  sides  of  the  cloth,  con- 
cealed from  view  until  its  tapering  ends  come  out  at  the 
two  lower  corners.  On  the  middle  of  the  pack-cloth 
are  now  piled  buckets,  blankets,  pots,  pans,  shoes,  socks, 
and  anything  else  that  has  no  more  appropriate  place, 
until  a  load  is  accumulated  larger  than  the  body  of  the 
carrier,  and  of  a  weight  sufficient  to  tax  the  strength 
of  two  ordinary  men.  These  different  things  are  all  ar- 
ranged so  that  no  uncomfortable  projections  shall  chafe 
the  carrier's  back. 

The  next  step  is  to  fold  the  two  ends  of  the  pack-cloth 
over  the  articles  just  piled  up,  so  that  the  structure  may 
have  somewhat  the  shape  of  a  barrel  with  head  and 
bottom  knocked  out.  The  Indian  now  usually  stands 
astride  of  his  pack,  holds  firmly  with  one  hand  the 
central  part  of  his  strap  where  it  disappears  among  the 
folds  of  the  tent,  and  pulls  hard  upon  its  corresponding 
end,  which  by  the  previous  act  of  folding  has  been 
brought  up  and  opposite  to  it.  What  was  the  side  of 
the  pack-cloth  now  becomes  the  end  of  the  pack,  and 
under  the  pulling  process  soon  looks  like  the  mouth  of 
a  bag,  which  is  made  fast  by  a  knot  in  the  strap.  The 
other  side  is  treated  in  the  same  manner,  and  we  now 
have  a  shapely  pack,  with  ends  tightly  closed.  Along 
the  top,  from  end  to  end,  runs  the  broad  part  of  the  strap, 
and  from  the  knots  at  the  extremities  of  this  broad  part 
run  the  two  long  tapering  ends.  These  are  brought 
together  under  the  centre-piece,  crossed,  and  carried 


104  WOODS   AKD   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

around  the  middle  of  the  pack,  where  on  the  opposite 
side  they  are  tightly  knotted.  The  pack  now  is  a  firm 
solid  mass,  and  the  Indian,  often  unable  from  its  great 
weight  to  lift  it  alone  upon  his  back,  either  drags  it  to 
some  log  or  mound,  or  by  the  aid  of  another  person 
succeeds  in  getting  under  it.  The  broad  part  of  the  strap 
passes  over  his  forehead,  and  sometimes,  as  an  additional 
aid,  a  second  strap  passes  from  the  pack  around  his  chest. 

Not  satisfied  with  a  single  pack,  the  Indian  will  throw 
a  bag  or  box  on  top  of  it,  and  trudge  along  over  a  carry 
without  thinking  of  resting  until  its  end  is  reached. 
Accustomed  to  these  burdens  on  their  hunting  excursions, 
from  childhood  up,  no  wonder  many  of  the  Indians  have 
immense  necks  and  shoulders.  Silas's  development  in 
this  particular,  as  before  stated,  was  particularly  notice- 
able, and  often  called  forth  admiration. 

It  is  said  that  the  disposition  or  individuality  of  a 
person  is  exhibited  in  its  true  colors  much  sooner  on  a 
journey  than  on  any  other  occasion.  If  there  is  any  one 
kind  of  journey  that  is  more  trying  to  the  temper  than 
another,  and  more  apt  to  call  out  this  exhibition,  it  is 
a  journey  over  a  disused  carry  on  a  hot  day,  when  one 
is  weighted  down  by  a  promiscuous  load  of  camp  equi- 
page. The  subject  is  already  too  trite  to  be  described 
anew  in  these  pages.  There  are  two  ways,  however,  of 
making  a  portage,  —  a  proper  and  an  improper  way. 
The  latter  is  to  take  a  heavy  load  of  differently  shaped 
articles,  and  to  try  to  carry  it  over  logs  and  slippery 
roots,  or  through  a  tangled  undergrowth,  either  without 
stopping  at  all,  or  with  but  few  rests.  The  strain  thus 


HOW   TO   GET   OVEK   A  CAEKY.  105 

put  upon  the  body,  especially  of  a  person  who  is  little 
accustomed  to  hard  physical  labor,  is  so  great  that  ex- 
haustion is  likely  to  follow.  Much  the  more  proper  and 
rational  way  is  to  divide  one's  allotted  portion  of  the 
luggage  into  several  reasonable  loads,  each  one  of  which 
should  consist  of  articles  of  the  same  general  nature,  that 
may  be  carried  together  without  interference.  Take  the 
first  of  these  loads,  and  carry  it  say  two  hundred  yards. 
Then  come  back  for  the  second,  and  carry  it  a  hundred 
yards  beyond  where  the  first  was  left.  If  there  be  a 
third,  carry  it  in  turn  a  hundred  yards  beyond  the  second. 
Then  get  the  first  and  carry  it  a  hundred  yards  beyond 
the  third,  and  so  on  to  the  end  of  the  carry.  It  will  be 
found  that  during  each  return  of  two  hundred  yards  the 
body  cools  off  somewhat,  and  the  muscles  are  relaxed  and 
rested.  Moreover,  by  the  system  of  altering  the  character 
of  one's  load,  an  additional  rest  is  given  to  the  muscles ; 
for  no  one  set  of  them  is  called  into  play  constantly,  ex- 
cept perhaps  those  of  the  lower  part  of  the  body,  which  can 
in  most  cases  better  bear  the  strain  of  an  extra  amount  of 
walking  than  can  the  others  that  of  an  added  weight. 

Fortunately  for  us  at  Allagaskwigamook,  the  day  was 
bright,  but  not  very  warm,  and  the  carry,  which  was  dry 
and  much  improved  by  our  work  of  the  afternoon  before, 
gave  us  little  cause  for  complaint.  On  the  writer's 
arrival  at  Marsh  Pond  a  strange  sight  met  his  eyes. 
Sartor,  his  legs  cased  in  rubber  boots,  was  far  out  in  the 
pond  in  an  attitude  of  sitting,  but  on  what  no  mor- 
tal man  could  see.  Before  him  in  his  hand  he  held 
a  block  of  card-board,  while  every  minute  or  two  his 


106  WOODS  AND  .LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

brush  would  dip  into  the  pond  as  naturally  as  if  he 
were  painting  the  universe  in  mid-air,  and  this  pond 
were  his  water-pot.1 

When  the  guides  came  with  the  canoes  and  the  Cap- 
tain had  descended  from  his  aerial  perch,  we  embarked 
for  the  other  end  of  the  pond,  which  was  little  more  than 
three  eighths  of  a  mile  distant.  We  were  soon  separated, 
our  respective  guides  fancying  they  saw  the  better  pas- 
sage through  the  shallow  water.  Each  canoe-load  looked 
very  picturesque  to  the  occupants  of  the  other,  as  it 
glided  along  through  the  mass  of  bristling  yellow-green, 
our  heads  above  the  reeds  and  sedge,  while  our  bodies 
and  the  canoes  were  almost  entirely  out  of  sight. 

Entering  the  brook  once  more,  we  passed  between  low 
grassy  banks,  beneath  overhanging  cedars  and  soft-clad 
graceful  hackmatacks  where  they  arched  the  stream. 
But  the  water  soon  grew  shallow,  and  Sartor  and  the 
writer  had  to  take  to  the  woods  on  the  right,  and  follow 
a  blind  trail  for  a  mile  up  to  Allagaskwigamooksis.  Here 
at  a  dilapidated  and  picturesque  old  dam  we  awaited  the 
arrival  of  the  guides,  who,  when  they  came  up,  told  us 
that  shortly  after  we  had  left  them  they  heard  several 
caribou  in  the  woods  on  their  left,  but  made  no  attempt 
to  "  call "  them  back,  as  the  rifle  had  been  taken  by  us 
on  our  walk.  Joe  said  he  could  call  caribou,  and,  putting 

1  On  the  17th  of  October,  1879,  an  autumn  noted  for  its  warmth,  the 
writer  visited  Spider  Lake.  The  surface  of  Marsh  Pond  was  covered  with 
the  white  flowers  of  the  water-lily,  and  the  air  filled  with  their  perfume.  On 
his  way  back,  four  days  later,  the  pond  had  in  many  places  a  sheet  of  thin 
ice  over  it,  and  not  a  lily-blossom  was  to  be  seen. 


ALLAGASKWIGAMOOKSIS. 


10* 


A  HEAVY   LOAD. 


his  hand   in 
front   of   his 
mouth,    he 
made  a  gruff  sort  of 
grunt,    to    show    us 
how  it  sounded. 

Allagaskwiga- 
mooksis   is   a   pretty 

lake,  in  the  labyrinth  of  whose  coves  one  is  seldom  sure 
of  being  in  the  right  place.  Its  waters  are  dark,  and  give 
one  the  impression  of  being  very  deep,  an  impression  that 
should  seem  to  be  confirmed  by  the  presence  in  them  of 
numbers  of  large  togue.  From  its  surface  several  moun- 
tains on  the  north  and  northeast  are  visible. 


108  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

In  deciding  where  to  camp,  the  question  came  up  as 
to  where  the  old  carry  to  Pleasant  Lake1  left  Allagask- 
wigamooksis.  Silas  and  the  writer  on  their  last  visit 
here  had  found  a  path  over  the  ridge  which  lay  between 
the  two  bodies  of  water ;  but  Joe  said  that  another  and  a 
better  one  left  the  upper  end  of  this  lake,  and  accord- 
ingly to  that  point  we  proceeded,  and  camped  among 
some  cedar  trees  in  a  small,  deep  cove  behind  an  island. 
In  the  afternoon  a  light  shower  of  rain  fell.  A  great 
deal  of  interest  attached  to  this  camp,  for  we  were  now 
on  the  border-land  between  the  old  and  the  new,  the 
tourist-trodden  and  the  tourist-untrodden,  and  the  pleas- 
ure to  be  derived  from  peering  into  strange  nooks  and 
corners  in  this  wild  country,  and  the  likelihood  of  finding 
some  enchanting  lake,  or  of  penetrating  into  the  heart 
of  some  remote  beaver  colony,  or  into  some  lonely  bog 
where  the  moose  roamed  undisturbed,  quickened  our  ex- 
pectations to  a  high  degree. 

That  evening  Sartor  and  the  writer  paddled  around 
to  the  mouth  of  the  principal  brook  that  comes  into  the 
lake,  and  up  its  dismal  course  for  some  yards.  A  mus- 
quash startled  us  by  flopping  over  in  the  water,  with  a 
sudden  splash,  near  the  bow  of  the  canoe,  and  once  or 
twice  out  of  the  solemn  hush  of  the  forest  we  fancied  we 
could  hear  the  movement  of  some  large  animal.  The 
moon  shone  brightly  on  the  placid  water,  its  lustre  re- 
flected from  the  lily-pads  on  our  right,  while  on  our  left 
black  obscurity  held  undisputed  sway. 

1  Mahklicongomoc,  "  hard-wood-land  lake." 


IN  CAMP.  109 

On  Allagaskwigamooksis  we  camped  two  days.  The 
old  carry,  in  many  places  no  better  than  a  "  spotted  line  " 
used  in  the  winter  by  hunters,  when  four  feet  of  snow 
cover  the  worst  obstructions  to  summer  travel,  had  to  be 
cut  anew  in  many  places,  over  a  distance  of  a  mile  and 
a  half.  We  were  glad  enough  to  stay  in  one  place  more 
than  one  night,  as  the  daily  routine  of  packing  up  and 
moving  had  become  somewhat  monotonous. 

There  was  little  in  our  camp  life  here  of  special  in- 
terest. We  paddled  around  the  lake  among  the  intrica- 
cies of  its  broken  northern  shore,  and  visited  a  small 
pond  on  the  south.  At  our  landing-place  a  lot  of  chubs 
soon  congregated,  attracted  doubtless  by  the  bits  of  food 
which  found  their  way  into  the  water  there.  These  fish 
grew  intimate  with  us,  and,  if  a  hand  happened  to  be 
dipped  into  the  lake,  they  would  swarm  around,  waiting 
for  the  expected  meal.  With  them  the  writer  has  had 
many  hours  of  amusement  during  his  camping  experi- 
ence. They  have  at  times  grown  so  tame  and  fearless, 
even  after  but  a  day's  intercourse,  that  they  would  crowd 
around  his  hand,  lowered  palm  upwards  among  them, 
and  snatch  and  pull  at  the  soaking  bread-crust  which  he 
held  between  thumb  and  forefinger.  At  these  times  he 
could  lift  them  by  the  handful  out  of  the  water,  when  of 
course  they  would  at  once  flop  back  again,  their  fall  scat- 
tering for  a  moment  in  affright  their  legion  of  comrades. 
Reassurance  would  come  again,  though,  and  the  scattered 
hosts  would  soon  be  as  busy  as  ever  in  their  eager  and 
jostling  search  for  food. 

One  morning  while  Sartor  was  busy  in  the  tent  and 


110  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

the  guides  were  at  work  on  the  carry,  the  writer  deter- 
mined to  go  over  to  Mahklicongomoc.  Thinking  to  find 
the  "  spotted  line "  quite  traceable,  he  took  no  compass 
with  him,  and  after  leaving  the  guides  followed  a  north- 
east course.  For  some  time  the  trail  was  good,  but  it 
soon  became  blind,  and  the  writer  was  compelled  to  de- 
pend upon  his  own  knowledge  of  wood-craft,  which,  up 
to  that  moment  he  had  considered  very  fair.  He  had 
not  gone  more  than  half  a  mile  in  this  way,  when  to  his 
surprise  and  pleasure  the  lake  lay  before  him.  Approach- 
ing the  shore  and  peering  through  the  trees,  he  recog- 
nized at  once  an  island  he  had  seen  on  his  last  visit  there, 
in  1879.  After  a  short  rest,  he  turned  to  walk  along  the 
shore,  and  suddenly  came  upon  fresh  human  footprints. 
While  wondering  how  any  person  could  have  come  there 
without  his  knowing  it,  he  was  still  further  startled  to 
see  beyond  him  a  tent.  Then  he  began  to  appreciate,  in 
a  slight  degree  perhaps,  the  sensations  of  Robinson  Cru- 
soe. "  Campers  here,  eh  ? "  he  ejaculated,  and,  walking 
towards  the  tent,  what  should  he  see  before  him  but  — 
Captain  Sartor !  Well,  the  writer  had  not  a  word  to  say. 
He  was  dumfounded.  He  had  often  heard  of  persons, 
lost  in  the  woods,  wandering  in  a  circle,  but  here  was  a 
case  of  a  person,  not  lost,  doing  .the  same  thing  uncon- 
sciously,—  a  veritable  paradox.  The  writer's  compan- 
ions of  that  trip  will  learn  of  this  adventure  for  the  first 
time  through  these  pages.  Mortification  and  thankful- 
ness at  his  escape  have  made  him  keep  the  secret  from 
them.  Moral,  never  go  into  the  woods  without  a  com- 
pass, —  a  good  compass. 


LOST   IN   THE   WOODS.  Ill 

The  qualification  in  the  last  words  is  suggested  by  the 
following  amusing  occurrence,  related  to  the  writer  by 
one  of  the  participants  in  it.  Three  men  were  hunting 
together  in  the  Maine  forests,  and  after  a  time  decided  to 
return  to  their  camp.  They  knew  in  which  direction  by 
the  compass  to  go,  in  order  to  reach  it,  and  by  a  strange 
coincidence  they  all  thought  north  lay  facing  them. 
Each  had  a  compass  in  his  pocket,  but  one  of  them  said 
that  his  was  out  of  order,  and  he  knew  it  did  not  point 
correctly.  The  needles,  however,  on  being  compared,  all 
pointed  alike,  and,  oddly  enough,  according  to  the  pre- 
conceived notions  of  their  owners  placed  north  just 
ninety  degrees  out  of  the  way.  The  three  hunters  were 
not  long  in  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  all  of  the  com- 
passes ivere  wrong,  and  they  followed  a  contrary  direction 
only  to  become  more  hopelessly  astray.  This  incident 
serves  to  confirm  the  wisdom  of  the  oft-repeated  advice, 
that,  when  a  man  is  lost  in  the  woods,  the  best  thing  he 
can  do  is  to  sit  down,  calm  himself,  and  then  follow  the 
dictates  of  reason,  not  of  blind  prejudice. 

Many  persons,  doubtless,  have  had  a  similar  experi- 
ence to  that  of  the  writer,  when  paddling  over  a  lake  in 
a  dense  fog.  If  the  canoe  takes  a  straight  course,  as 
when  the  stern-man  steers  by  the  compass,  to  the  bow- 
man it  seems  as  if  they  were  swinging  around  in  a  wide 
curve. 

On  the  morning  of  our  second  day  at  Allagaskwiga- 
mooksis,  the  guides  took  one  load  of  luggage  over  the 
carry,  on  the  other  end  of  which  they  still  had  some  cut- 
ting to  do,  and  by  prearrangement  were  to  return  and  eat 


112  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

dinner  before  we  should  move  our  camp.  Sartor  and  the 
writer  spent  the  intervening  time  in  paddling  around  the 
lake,  and  on  our  return  found  the  following  note  from 
Joe,  to  wit :  "  We  are  going  to  take  the  dinner  at  the 
other  end  of  the  carry."  Accordingly  we  shouldered 
our  loads,  and  in  three  quarters  of  an  hour  were  on 
the  shores  of  Mahklicongomoc. 

After  dinner,  while  the  guides  went  back  for  the  last 
loads,  Sartor  and  the  writer  walked  along  the  shore, 
around  to  a  picturesque  point  that  ran  out  into  the  lake 
near  some  pretty  islands.  The  mossy  ground  under  us 
was  literally  cut  up  with  the  tracks  of  caribou  and  deer, 
but  the  only  living  creature  that  came  before  our  eyes 
was  a  solitary  loon  far  out  on  the  lake.  We  stretched 
ourselves  on  a  mossy  bank  under  a  graceful  birch-tree, 
and  drank  in  the  delicious  air  and  sunshine  to  our  heart's 
content. 

The  carry  from  Allagaskwigamooksis  comes  out  in  a 
broad  bay  well  towards  the  eastern  end  of  Mahklicon- 
gomoc. After  a  good  rest,  and  leaving  the  Captain  to 
his  own  meditations,  the  writer  wandered  back  to  meet 
the  guides,  Joe  with  his  pack  and  Silas  under  the  canoe. 
The  canoe  looked  very  oddly  in  the  distance,  as  without 
visible  motive  power  it  cleft  the  over-arching  bushes, 
which  scraped  with  a  harsh  grating  sound  against  its 
sides.  Then  appeared  the  body  and  booted  legs  of  the 
carrier,  who  was  unconscious  of  any  one's  approach  until 
we  were  almost  abreast. 

When  the  Indian  is  about  to  take  his  canoe  over  a 
portage,  he  ties  the  paddles  firmly  along  the  upper  side 


CARRYING    A    CANOE. 


CARRYING  A  CANOE.  115 

of  the  three  middle  thwarts,  parallel  with  the  length  of 
the  canoe,  and  a  little  more  than  a  foot  apart,  so  that 
they  may  rest  on  his  shoulders  when  he  is  under  the 
inverted  boat,  and  take  some  of  the  weight  from  the  back 
of  his  neck.  The  neck  otherwise  supports  the  entire 
burden,  the  middle  thwart  pressing  against  it  sometimes 
with  a  sharp  and  cutting  edge.  This  discomfort  is  partly 
removed  by  a  cushion  improvised  from  a  coat  or  other 
garment,  or  by  tying  to  the  thwart  a  thin,  flat,  and  broad 
piece  of  cedar,  which  rests  directly  across  the  neck  and 
shoulder-blades,  and  distributes  the  weight  over  a  larger 
surface.  A  strong  backwoodsman  will  pick  up  his  canoe 
by  the  rails  in  front  of  the  middle  thwart,  and  swing  it 
over  his  head  with  ease,  while  the  average  tourist,  if  he 
ever  attempts  to  carry  one,  prefers  to  rest  the  bow 
against  the  low  branch  of  some  tree,  and  then  get  under 
the  canoe  at  his  leisure. 

The  ordinary  birch-bark  canoe  of  Maine  to-day  is 
about  eighteen  feet  long,  three  feet  wide  in  the  middle, 
and  a  foot  deep,  and  the  ends  curve  more  or  less  accord- 
ing to  the  fancy  of  the  builder,  but  seldom  according  to 
the  fancy  of  many  illustrators.  It  weighs  from  eighty 
to  one  hundred  and  ten  pounds,  sometimes  exceeding  the 
latter  figure,  especially  after  having  become  water-soaked. 
Canoes  are  made  for  hunting  which  have  the  ribs  an 
inch  or  two  apart,  and  weigh  sixty  or  seventy  pounds. 

There  are  two  principal  models  of  canoe,  the  flat- 
bottomed  or  lake-canoe,  and  the  round-bottomed  or  river- 
canoe.  It  goes  without  saying  that  the  former  is  the 
steadier  and  safer  of  the  two,  and  the  writer  considers  it 


116  WOODS  AND  LAKES  OF  MAINE. 

the  better  even  for  rapid  water.  The  round-bottomed 
birch,  to  be  sure,  possesses  the  quality  of  responding  at 
once  to  the  stroke  of  the  paddle  or  setting-pole,  an  ad- 
vantage often  of  great  moment  in  rapid  water,  and  not 
to  be  lightly  esteemed.  On  the  other  hand,  this  form  of 
canoe  draws  more  water  than  the  other,  and  consequently 
is  more  apt  to  be  scraped  and  injured  by  hidden  rocks, 
and  there  are  seldom  passages  between  rocks  so  narrow 
that  either  canoe  cannot  ride  through  with  equal  ease. 
A  flat-bottomed  canoe,  if  made  to  curve  somewhat  on 
the  bottom  towards  each  end,  will  possess  the  advan- 
tages of  both  models,  with  few  of  their  disadvantages. 
It  will  be  safe,  and  easily  guided. 

The  canvas  canoe  which  the  writer  used  on  this  voy- 
age was  flat-bottomed,  and  built  after  the  ordinary  model 
of  the  birch,  except  that  the  keel  began  to  curve  too  short 
a  distance  from  the  ends.  When  loaded,  the  canoe  had 
a  great  length  of  keel  under  water,  and  in  rapids  the 
current  would  act  with  such  force  on  either  end  of  it 
—  on  the  stern  going  down  and  the  bow  going  up  — 
that  its  proper  guidance  became  a  matter  of  very  great 
difficulty,  and  often  taxed  severely  the  poler's  strength. 
In  other  respects  this  canoe  was  admirable.  Unlike  the 
birch,  it  needed  no  repitching,  and  though  it  received  some 
pretty  hard  bumps  and  scratches,  it  did  not  leak  a  drop 
during  the  entire  voyage. 

We  camped  that  night  at  the  end  of  a  cove  at  the 
northwest  extremity  of  Mahklicongomoc,  a  cove  in  which 
the  water  was  very  shallow  and  the  bottom  muddy,  and 
from  which  marsh-gas  rose  in  abundance.  Fortunately 


MAHKLICONGOMOC.  117 

for  us  the  wind  carried  the  offensive  odor  away  from  our 
camp,  and  we  found  quite  near  us  a  cool  and  sparkling 
brook,  from  which  we  drew  our  water  supply.  This  was 
the  nearest  point  on  the  lake  to  Harrow  Lake,1  and  an 
old  and  bush-grown  logging-road  ran  to  the  latter  through 
flat  and  swampy  ground.  This  road  the  guides  set  about 
clearing  out  the  next  morning,  while  Sartor  and  the 
writer  went  out  in  a  canoe  on  a  tour  of  exploration. 

1  MegTcwakangamocsis,  "marsh  pond." 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

PINE  FORESTS.  —  A  CARIBOU.  —  ANOTHER  DISAPPOINTMENT.  — 
HORNETS  vs.  FLIES.  —  THE  BEAVER.  —  His  GENERAL  APPEAR- 
ANCE.—  DISTURBING  A  "BACHELOR." — THE  BEAVER'S  HABITS. 
—  His  DAMS. — MECHANICAL  SKILL. — WARINESS. 

OINCE  our  arrival  on  Allagash  waters  we  had  been 
struck  by  the  great  number  of  pine  trees  which 
lifted  their  heads  over  the  surrounding  forests ;  and  this 
was  all  the  more  noticeable  because  of  the  general  ab- 
sence of  those  trees  theretofore  along  other  parts  of  our 
route.  Indeed,  the  pine  has  almost  disappeared  from 
Northern  Maine,  having  long  since  succumbed  to  the 
woodman's  axe,  except  in  this  and  some  other  sections 
of  the  State  which  are  tributary  to  the  Allagash  and 
St.  John  Rivers,  and  even  here  the  trees  are  mostly  what 
are  called  "  saplings."  It  is  now  many  years  since  the 
logger  sought  out  in  this  region  the  giant  trunks  of 
the  pine,  whose  forms  he  laid  prostrate,  and,  cutting  off 
their  buts,  left  the  rest  to  waste  away.  The  writer  has 
often  seen  these  immense  remains,  which  would  measure 
nearly  three  feet  in  diameter,  stripped  of  their  moulder- 
ing bark,  their  trunks  almost  as  sound  as  when  they 
fell,  forty  years  ago.  Old  and  decayed  dams,  picturesque 


PINE   FOBESTS.  119 

in  their  ruin,  totter  now  where  years  ago  they  guarded 
their  resistless  hoards  of  water,  once  ready  at  the  builder's 
nod  to  let  seething  torrents  loose  down  the  beds  of  quiet 
streamlets,  and  turn  their  laughing  ripples  to  a  roaring 
flood.  Driftwood  of  wandering  logs  and  mighty  trees  lies 
piled  and  wedged  about  those  aged  gates,  making  desola- 
tion more  desolate,  while  here  and  there  stand  forests  of 
the  past,  lifting  their  naked  spires  heavenward,  monu- 
ments of  the  power  of  water  to  destroy. 

The  forests  of  Maine  no  longer  yield  up  their  bounties 
with  such  a  lavish  hand  as  formerly.  The  encroachments 
of  the  logger  have  robbed  them  of  their  larger  trees  in 
regions  near  the  settlements,  and  now  he  needs  must  seek 
elsewhere.  The  time  is  not  far  distant  when  the  tour- 
ist will  see  Chase  Dam  resurrected,  and  the  forests  now 
haunted  by  the  moose  will  ring  again  with  the  chopper's 
axe,  and  wilds  seldom  trodden  save  by  the  trapper  and 
hunter  will  be  strewn  with  the  tangled  debris  of  spruce- 
tops. 

Upon  the  day  in  question  we  skirted  around  Mahkli- 
congomoc,  pried  into  every  hidden  nook  which  might 
contain  some  novelty,  and  searched  diligently  for  in- 
flowing brooks.  The  only  one  we  could  find  greater 
than  a  rivulet  emptied  into  the  northeast  end  of  the*  lake ; 
and  as  we  approached  the  little  cove  before  it,  we  saw, 
standing  in  the  shallow  water  some  two  hundred  yards 
away,  a  caribou.  The  wind  was  unfavorable,  but  we 
hoped  the  air-currents  might  rise  before  they  reached 
our  game,  and  we  quickly  steered  behind  a  rock,  up 
whose  steep  sides  the  writer  succeeded  in  climbing  with 


120  WOODS  AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

his  rifle.  At  last  we  were  to  have  fresh  meat,  thought 
he,  to  replenish  our  rapidly  failing  stores.  How  good 
it  would  taste,  to  be  sure !  and  at  the  thought  our 
mouths  fairly  puckered,  as  did  the  Widow  Bolte's,  in 
"  Max  and  Moritz,"  when  she  went  down  stairs  for  some 
sauer-kraut.  And  Sartor  wanted  the  hide,  to  lay  beside 
his  bed.  How  warm  it  would  feel  to  his  feet,  next  win- 
ter, when  he  should  rise  on  cold  and  frosty  mornings  ! 
Alas !  vain  hope.  The  wind  proved  recreant,  and  the 
writer  had  scarcely  reached  his  perch,  when  the  familiar 
signs  seen  on  Lobster  Stream  were  repeated,  the  head 
moving  from  side  to  side  near  the  surface  of  the  water, 
and  in  a  twinkling  the  white  part  of  the  tail  flopping  a 
signal  of  farewell,  as  the  animal  jumped  into  the  woods 
and  disappeared.  Kegret  was  useless,  but,  swallow  our 
disappointment  as  philosophically  as  we  might,  there  was 
nevertheless  traceable  in  the  voice  of  one  member  of  that 
party  a  certain  huskiness,  which  indicated  a  difficulty  in 
the  swallowing  process. 

The  next  morning  opened  with  the  wind  in  the  south, 
and  light  showers  of  rain  falling  at  short  intervals.  The 
guides  had  finished  their  work  on  the  carry,  and  we  had 
hoped  to  leave  early  for  Megkwakangamocsis,  but  decided 
to  await  the  outcome  of  the  weather.  The  early  hours 
after  breakfast  were  spent  in  various  ways,  the  writer 
during  part  of  the  time  watching  the  warfare  waged  by  a 
large  hornet  (Vespa  crdbro)  against  the  swarm  of  house- 
flies  that  filled  our  tent.  These  domestic  flies,  if  indeed 
they  be  the  same  that  haunt  our  firesides  at  home,  intro- 
duce themselves  to  the  camper  almost  as  soon  as  his  tent 


HORNETS  vs.  FLIES.  121 

is  fairly  pitched,  and  the  news  of  his  arrival  is  quickly 
heralded  among  their  relatives,  near  and  distant,  in  both 
senses  of  those  terms.  A  visitor  to  the  tent  almost  as 
frequent  as  this  fly,  but  not  so  "  numerous,"  is  the  hornet, 
a  "  character,"  that,  however  much  he  may  resent  the 
intrusion  of  others  into  the  neighborhood  of  his  abode, 
in  theirs  demeans  himself  with  decorum,  and  confines 
his  efforts  to  attempts  at  making  life  miserable  for  the 
flies.  He  booms  along  and  into  their  midst,  and  now  and 
then,  by  great  good  luck,  catches  one,  which  he  proceeds 
forthwith  to  dismember.  Hanging  quietly,  head  down- 
wards, from  the  ridgepole  of  the  tent,  he  turns  his  booty 
round  and  round,  and  we  see  first  a  leg  fall  off  and  then  a 
wing,  until,  reduced  to  the  semblance  of  a  little  ball,  what 
remains  of  the  fly  is  carried  in  triumph  to  the  family  nest. 
As  a  marksman  the  hornet  cannot  lay  claim  to  great  dis- 
tinction. He  seems  to  buzz  around  at  random,  often 
pouncing  incontinently  upon  a  darkened  spot  of  mildew, 
and  again  hovering  over  a  fly  not  two  inches  away,  with- 
out appearing  to  notice  him.  Nor  does  his  presence  seem 
much  to  trouble  the  peace  of  mind  of  the  flies,  for  they 
not  only  do  not  scatter  at  his  approach,  but  even  seem  to 
jostle  him.  The  old  fellow,  however,  is  persistent,  and 
from  among  the  multitude  of  his  prey,  by  patient  efforts, 
generally  succeeds  in  taking  off  his  victim. 

Of  all  the  fur-bearing  animals  that  the  tourist  still 
finds  in  Maine,  perhaps  none  excites  so  much  interest  as 
the  beaver  (Castor  Canadensis).  Endowed  with  what 
philosophers  have  termed  a  wonderful  instinct,  he  has 
long  been  an  object  of  admiration,  if  not  of  reverence, 


122  WOODS   AND  LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

among  the  Indians,  whose  oft-repeated  tales  of  his  saga- 
city, still  further  exaggerated  in  the  narratives  of  early 
travellers  in  the  New  World,  invested  him,  until  the  end 
of  the  last  century,  with  most  marvellous  powers,  mental 
as  well  as  mechanical.1  Even  now  there  is  a  wide-spread 
misapprehension  of  many  of  his  habits,  and  a  tendency? 
it  may  be  a  just  one,  to  rank  him  in  intelligence  above 
many  others  of  the  vertebrates,  with  whose  habits  we 
have,  and  from  the  circumstances  of  the  case  can  have, 
much  less  acquaintance  than  with  his. 

The  beaver  of  Maine  to-day  grows  from  two  to  three 
feet  long,  and  is  covered  with  a  thick  coat  of  fur,  the 
part  nearest  the  skin  being  of  a  light  brown  color  and 
very  soft,  while  the  longer  hair  varies  from  a  chestnut- 
brown  to  a  dull,  dark  slate,  and  completely  hides  the 
shorter  hair  from  view.  For  domestic  use  the  skins  are 
generally  plucked  of  the  longer  hair. 

The  weight  of  a  three-year-old  beaver  varies  from 
thirty  to  fifty  pounds.  The  body  is  thick  and  full,  the 
head,  eyes,  and  ears  are  small,  the  nose  oblique,  the  fore 
legs  short  and  their  feet  digitigrade,  the  hind  legs  longer 
and  the  feet  webbed  and  plantigrade.  The  four  front 
teeth  or  incisors  are  two  or  three  inches  long  from  base  to 
tip,  and  are  composed  of  a  very  hard  dark-brown  flinty 
outer  substance  and  a  softer  inner  material  which  wears 


1  See  La  Hontan,  Le  Beau,  and  others.  In  1 795,  at  London,  was  pub- 
lished Samuel  Hearne's  "  Journey  from  Prince  of  Wales's  Fort  to  the  North- 
ern Ocean,"  which  contains  a  very  accurate  and  interesting  account  of  the 
beaver.  Notwithstanding,  we  find  Heriot  and  others,  as  late  as  1807,  repeating 
without  stint  the  earlier  fables  about  that  animal. 


THE   BEAVEE.  123 

away  more  rapidly  than  the  former,  and  leaves  the  teeth 
with  sharp  bevelled  edges.  So  hard  are  they  that  the 
Indians  have  used  them  for  carving  bone  implements. 
The  ends  of  the  incisors  by  constant  use  rapidly  wear 
away,  and  the  waste  is  supplied  by  a  rapid  growth  from 
below.  Beaver  skeletons  have  been  found,  in  which  one 
of  the  incisors  was  broken  off  short,  while  the  opposite 
one  had  grown  so  long  as  apparently  to  prevent  the 
animal  from  feeding,  and  death  was  supposed  to  have 
been  caused  by  starvation. 

The  tail  is  flat  and  oval,  nearly  a  foot  long,  and  cov- 
ered with  a  rough,  scale-like  skin.  By  the  aid  of  this 
member  the  beaver  accelerates  his  speed  when  under 
water,  or  guides  his  course. 

By  ten  o'clock  the  heavens  gave  promise  of  clearing, 
and  the  guides  took  the  two  canoes  across  the  carry  to 
Megkwakangamocsis,  while  Captain  Sartor  and  the  writer, 
with  gun  and  sketch-book,  followed,  to  explore  the  lake 
and  its  neighborhood.  It  turned  out  to  be  a  commonplace 
enough  body  of  water,  nearly  two  miles  long,  with  two 
deep  coves,  one  on  each  side  of  its  upper  end,  and  a  long 
stretch  of  dismal  barren,  filled  with  "rampikes,"  at  its 
foot.  Its  water  was  warm,  yellowish,  and  appeared  to 
contain  nothing  but  large  tadpoles. 

Paddling  down  to  the  outlet,  we  got  out  of  the  canoes 
upon  some  logs  which  had  stranded  there  in  a  confused 
mass  in  the  shallow  water,  when  Sartor  spied  an  old 
beaver-lodge  near  by  on  the  bank  among  the  roots  of 
several  large  cedars.  As  it  was  the  first  one  he  had 


124  WOODS  AND  LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

ever  seen,  he  and  Silas  scrambled  over  the  logs  and  up 
the  bank. 

"  I  say,  Silas,  how  old  is  this  house  ? "  queried  the 
Captain. 

"  0,  I  don't  know.  Mebbe  three,  four  year,"  replied 
the  Indian. 

"  Do  you  supppose  there  are  any  beavers  in  it  now  ?  " 

"  0,  no.  No  fresh  sign.  Beaver  all  gone  last  year." 
And  Silas  kicked  away  one  or  two  decaying  sticks,  the 
ends  of  which  protruded  from  the  house. 

During  this  colloquy  Sartor  had  picked  up  a  long, 
sharp-pointed  stick,  and  was  vigorously  thrusting  it  be- 
tween the  "timbers"  of  the  deserted  lodge,  and  had 
succeeded  in  burying  two  or  three  feet  of  it  in  the 
weatherbeaten  pile. 

"There!  That  must  be  the  kitchen,"  —  turning  the 
outer  end  around,  as  he  spoke,  like  the  handle  of  a  street- 
organ.  "  The  cook 's  not  at  home,  evidently.  I  wonder 
where  the  bedroom  is !  Upon  my  word,  I  believe  I  feel 
something  soft." 

The  stick  was  pulled  out,  and  its  end  attentively 
examined  by  both  the  Captain  and  Silas,  in  search  of 
beaver-hair.  Joe  and  the  writer  scouted  the  idea  of  a 
beaver  being  in  there  all  this  time.  The  stick  was  thrust 
into  the  pile  again,  and  in  a  twinkling  there  was  a  heavy 
swash  in  the  water  opposite  the  lodge,  followed  by  a 
splash  and  a  scramble  among  the  logs,  made  by  an 
escaping  animal.  Joe,  who  was  nearest  the  place  of  the 
commotion,  jumped  instinctively  about  four  feet  over 
the  water  to  another  log,  brandishing  his  paddle  and 


DISTUBBING  A   "BACHELOK." 


125 


shouting  "  Beaver !  beaver ! "  while  (candor  compels  the 
admission)  the  writer,  with  equal  precipitation  and  less 
judgment,  rushed  to  the  canoe  for  his  rifle  in  such  haste 
as  to  lose  his  balance,  and  for  some  seconds  hung,  as  it 
were,  suspended  over  the  water,  with  one  hand  clutching 


BEAVER  DAM. 

desperately  the  end  of  a  dead  spruce-bough,  and  the 
other  resting  on  the  gunwale  of  his  slowly  receding 
canoe.  And  during  all  this  time  the  chief  authors  of 
the  disturbance  stood  on  the  bank,  the  one  smiling  dis- 
creetly and  the  other  fairly  shaking  with  mirth. 

We  waited  quietly  for  ten  minutes,  in  the  hope  that 
we  might  add  beaver-meat  to  our  larder,  but  our  hopes 
were  vain.  Silas  said  this  was  a  "bachelor  beaver," 
which  had  made  the  old  house  his  temporary  abode,  and 


126  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

that  there  were  probably  holes  in  the  bank  near  by,  in 
one  of  which  he  had  now  hidden  himself. 

That  night  around  the  camp-fire  the  conversation 
naturally  turned  to  beavers  and  their  habits,  and  Joe  told 
us  that  he  had  caught  beavers  that  were  three  and  a  half 
feet  long  from  base  of  tail  to  end  of  nose,  and  that 
weighed  seventy-five  pounds ;  that  the  average  weight, 
however,  was  about  thirty-five  pounds.  "  The  beaver," 
he  said,  "  stand  on  his  hind  legs  and  walk,  when  he  carry 
mud  for  the  house,  snug  up  to  his  neck,  like  this," 
folding  his  arms  against  his  breast.  "He  carry  sticks, 
too,  with  his  mouth, — sometimes  two,  three,  four — great 
many  —  sticks,  mouth  full,  can't  carry  no  more.  Then 
help  hold  'em  with  one  paw,  same  as  hand,  and  walk  on 
other  three.  When  stick  in  beaver's  mouth,  end  comes 
over  his  back.  Skin  very  thick  here,"  pointing  to  the 
sides  of  his  neck.  "  Sticks  make  'em  thick ;  rub  hard. 

"Beaver  know  when  winter's  comin'.  Day  before 
pond  freeze  over  he  draw  his  wood  all  down  under  water, 
so  as  to  have  it  handy.  Next  day  water  freeze  up  tight. 
Beaver  travel  round  under  ice  and  work  in  winter,  same 
as  in  summer ;  they  make  some  places,  where  they  use 
to  go,  eat,  in  the  night ;  come  out  when  they  kin  find 
hole.  We  bait  traps  in  winter  with  fresh  branches. 
Beaver  like  white-wood,  poplar,  birch ;  only  eat  alder 
when  can't  get  other  kind.  Poplar  is  best,  —  same  as  pie 
for  us,"  —  and  Joe's  merry  laugh  at  this  bit  of  humor 
was  taken  up  and  echoed  by  his  interested  audience. 

"Beaver  like  stay  on  shore  rainy  nights,  playin'  on 
the  bank.  He  drop  little  castor,  and  by'm  by  another 


THE   BE  AVER'S   HABITS.  127 

beaver  swim  along  and  smell  castor,  and  he  must  go  up 
and  see  what  is.  That's  the  way  trap  beaver,  —  with 
castor.  Put  some  on  stick  over  trap.  Best  when  wind 
blows  out  from  shore. 

"We  kin  tell  beaver  one  or  two  years  old  by  size. 
After  that  we  can't.  Young  beaver  stay  in  family  until 
a  year  old,  —  sometimes  two,  three  years  old.  In  spring 
they  make  house  for  summer,  with  sticks,  —  no  mud. 
Then  they  look  'round  for  good  chance,  and  just  before 
winter  build  good  house,  with  sticks  and  mud.  We  goin' 
have  late  fall  this  year.  That  beaver  hasn't  built  his 
house  yet  over  on  Megkwakangamocsis. 

"  I  ketch  young  beaver  once,  0,  very  small  little  one. 
Week  after  I  ketch  'im,  I  camp  on  island  in  Allagaskwi- 
gamook.  Next  mornin'  beaver  gone.  I  say  to  my  brother, 
6  Well,  I  guess  our  beaver 's  gone,'  but  pretty  soon  I  saw 
some  —  thing  swimmin'  in  the  water  away  out,  and  our 
little  beaver  came  back.  I  feed  him  on  gruel  —  first 
time.  After  he  was  'bout  three  weeks  old,  give  him 
bread,  potatoes,  —  anything.  That  little  beaver  he  plays 
like  a  kitten,  and  runs  around  very  fast,  jumping  first 
with  his  two  front  legs,  and  then  with  the  others.  He 's 
very  mischievous,  and  gnaws  chair-legs  and  furniture. 
One  night  I  put  'im  in  a  box,  tight,  and  next  mornin'  he 
had  cut  a  hole  in  it  and  got  out.  He  was  very  clean  and 
neat  in  his  habits,  that  beaver  was.  Poor  fellow,  he 
went  away  next  spring  and  got  caught  in  musquash-trap 
at  Squaw  Brook." 

The  ingenuity  and  skill  of  the  beaver  are  perhaps 
nowhere  so  marked  as  in  the  construction  of  his  dams. 


128  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

These  are  made  of  sticks  and  freshly  cut  branches,  com- 
bined with  mud  and  stones,  and  often  attain  to  a  length 
of  several  hundred  feet,  and  to  a  height  of  from  three 
to  six  feet  opposite  the  channel  of  the  stream,  whose 
waters  they  hold  in  check.  At  the  base  these  dams  are 
wide,  and  taper  to  the  crest,  which  is  seldom  more  than 
eighteen  inches  broad,  but  generally  so  strong  as  to  bear 
the  weight  of  a  man  without  being  much  depressed. 
The  lower  sticks  and  branches  in  the  dam  generally 
have  their  large  ends  pointing  up  stream,  a  circumstance 
which  may  be  due  to  the  fact  that  the  beaver  in  swim- 
ming with  them  holds  them  near  the  large  end,  with  the 
smaller  or  bushy  end  thrown  over  his  back.  When  he 
reaches  running  water  and  stops,  the  force  of  the  current 
must  tend  to  swing  the  bushy  end  of  the  branch  down 
stream,  in  which  position  it  is  laid. 

The  direction  of  the  dams  is  often  convex  towards 
the  current  of  the  stream,  a  form  which  serves  admirably 
to  withstand  the  pressure  of  the  water  above  them. 
This  form,  however,  is  by  no  means  invariable,  for  some- 
times the  dam  runs  concave  to  the  current,  sometimes 
straight  across  it,  and  sometimes  it  is  sinuous,  or  both 
convex  and  concave.  The  tourist  occasionally  meets 
with  a  succession  of  these  dams  at  short  distances  apart, 
the  water  level  above  the  one  reaching  to  the  base  of  the 
next  higher.  However  we  may  wonder  at  the  beaver's 
sagacity,  and  however  freely  we  may  accredit  to  him  the 
possession  of  a  mental  principle,  we  can  hardly  be  ex- 
pected to  allow  that  he  makes  these  successive  dams  in 
order  that  the  resistance  of  the  water  below  each  one 


BEAVEE   DAMS.  129 

may  counteract  the  pressure,  to  an  equal  height,  of  the 
water  above  it,  and  thus  serve  to  strengthen  the  dam.1 
The  writer,  in  going  up  a  stream  less  than  three  quarters 
of  a  mile,  has  lifted  his  canoe  over  twelve  successive 
dams  of  this  kind,  in  order  to  reach  the  main  dam  and 
lodge  of  the  builders.  Without  going  so  far  out  of  the 
realms  of  probability  as  to  endow  the  beaver  with  the 
wonderful  engineering  skill  suggested  above,  it  seems 
likely  that,  as  he  is  essentially  a  water  animal,  he  prefers 
to  make  his  journeys  in  that  element,  and  especially  so 
when  in  quest  of  a  supply  of  food,  which  he  can  thus 
transport  much  more  easily  than  by  land. 

The  beaver  quickly  discovers  a  change  in  the  level  of 
his  pond,  and  if  a  breach  occur  in  the  dam  it  is  soon 
repaired,  his  work  being  done  generally  at  night.  He  is 
a  persistent  worker,  and  frequent  breaches,  whether  made 
by  man  or  by  the  elements,  are  apt  to  be  as  frequently 
repaired. 

The  beaver  is  very  shy  and  far-scented,  and  if,  while 
swimming,  he  detects  the  presence  of  man,  he  dives,  and 
in  so  doing  strikes  his  tail  against  the  surface  of  the 
water  as  a  signal  of  alarm.  The  writer  has  heard  a 
beaver  do  this  at  night  a  dozen  times  in  succession, 
when  our  party  was  undoubtedly  the  disturbing  cause, 
but  so  far  away  that  it  seemed  impossible  that  we  could 
have  been  scented.  The  noise  thus  made  is  very  loud, 
and  on  a  still  night  may  be  heard  from  a  great  distance. 

The  Indian,  after  setting  his  traps  for  beaver,  takes 
care  to  splash  with  water  his  tracks  and  all  sticks  or 

1  See  "  The  American  Beaver  and  his  Works,"  p.  99. 
9 


130  WOODS   AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

ground  he  may  have  touched ;  and  yet  the  writer  knows 
of  a  case  where  six  people  passed  and  repassed  over  a 
dam  not  seven  feet  wide,  and  dragged  three  canoes  over 
it  twice  in  one  day,  and  during  the  following  night  a 
beaver  was  caught  in  a  trap  previously  set  there. 

The  beaver's  sight  is  not  as  good  as  his  hearing.  The 
writer  once  fired  at  one  from  behind,  at  less  than  thirty 
yards.  At  the  report  of  the  rifle  the  beaver  dove  for  a 
moment,  and,  rising  again,  swam  on  unconcernedly.  An 
unusual  noise  does  not  appear  to  alarm  them.  They  have 
been  known  to  work  by  the  side  of  a  railroad,  along 
which  trains  frequently  passed  day  and  night.  An  Indian 
once  told  the  writer  that  he  had  shot  five  beavers  in 
succession  from  a  tree  near  their  lodge,  late  in  the  after- 
noon, as  they  appeared  one  after  the  other,  having  evi- 
dently come  out  for  their  night's  work. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

BEAVER  LODGES. — THEIR  COMPOSITION  AND  CONSTRUCTION. — 
BEAVER  CUTTINGS.  —  CAMP  ON  MEGKWAKAGAMOCSIS.  —  HIGH- 
LOW-JACK.  —  REST.  —  SKETCHING  BY  MOONLIGHT.  —  COLD 
WEATHER.  —  JOE'S  ENGLISH.  —  BAKED  BEANS.  —  A  BEAVER 
BOG.  —  CAUTION. 

"TTTHILE  on  the  subject  of  beavers,  the  writer  will  add 
the  results  of  some  observations  made  by  him  in 
the  Maine  woods  within  the  past  few  years,  during  which 
time  it  has  been  his  good  fortune  to  examine  a  number  of 
beaver  lodges  arid  some  old  "  cuttings,"  and  to  converse 
on  the  subject  with  both  Indian  and  white  trappers. 

On  the  4th  of  October,  1882,  his  Indian  guide  led  the 
writer  to  a  small  pond  above  Allagash  Lake,  on  a  trib- 
utary of  the  stream  of  that  name,  where,  the  previous 
winter,  the  former  had  found  what  he  considered  the 
largest  beaver-house  he  had  ever  seen.  On  a  small  point 
of  land  jutting  out  into  the  pond,  near  its  outlet,  and 
separated  from  the  mainland  by  a  narrow,  but  deep, 
artificial  canal,  was  what  appeared  to  be  an  immense 
lodge.  It  was  twelve  feet  long  and  six  feet  wide  at  the 
base,  rounded  at  the  top,  and  five  and  a  half  feet  high 
at  two  points  three  feet  apart.  The  portion  between 
these  rounded  tops  was  but  slightly  lower  than  the  tops, 


132  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

and  through  it  projected  three  larches,  from  six  to  eight 
inches  in  diameter,  all  of  which  were  dead.  After  half 
an  hour  of  hard  work,  a  hole  was  made  through  one 
end  of  the  structure,  by  removing  one  by  one  a  mass 
of  interlaced  sticks,  and  a  quantity  of  earth,  in  which 
they  were  firmly  imbedded  to  the  thickness  of  about 
two  feet.  The  interior  proved  to  be  rilled  with  water 
to  the  depth  of  six  inches,  and  its  sides  were  covered 
with  mildew.  The  flooded  condition  of  this  interior 
was  due,  no  doubt,  to  a  permanent  raising  of  the 
water  level  of  the  pond,  after  the  erection  of  the  lodge. 
Old  trappers  say  this  is  not  an  uncommon  occurrence. 
By  means  of  a  long  pole  we  found  two  under-ground 
exits  from  the  chamber,  and  a  passage-way  which  ran 
towards  the  other  end  of  the  structure.  This  chamber 
was  about  four  feet  in  diameter. 

An  opening,  almost  vertical,  was  next  made  between 
two  of  the  trees  and  between  the  summits  of  the  lodge, 
disclosing  a  passage-way  about  seven  inches  above  water 
level,  which  afterwards  proved  to  connect  the  first  cham- 
ber with  another. 

Finally,  a  third  opening  was  made  on  the  same  side 
as  the  second,  and  two  feet  beyond  it.  The  sticks  at 
this  place  were  more  easily  removed  than  in  the  other 
instances,  and  the  interior  was  soon  reached.  It  proved 
to  be  a  distinct  lodge ;  and  while  it  connected  with  the 
old  one,  the  passage  had  evidently  been  made  after 
the  latter  was  deserted,  for  it  left  the  highest  part  of  the 
floor  quite  abruptly  and  above  its  natural  level,  unlike 
any  other  exit  the  writer  has  ever  seen  in  a  beaver 


BEAVER   LODGES.  133 

lodge.  This  passage  appeared  to  have  been  used  but 
little,  as  across  its  mouth  were  two  or  three  sticks 
which  would  impede,  but  not  prevent,  an  exit.  In  the 
floor,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room,  and  within  the 
latter' s  limits,  was  the  end  of  the  main  passage-way, 
two  feet  wide,  which  led  directly  to  the  pond,  and  in 
which  the  water  was  over  a  foot  deep  at  its  very 
commencement. 

This  chamber  was  eighteen  inches  high  in  places,  and 
its  floor,  hard  and  compact,  sloped  gradually  from  the 
centre  to  the  edge  of  the  water  in  the  passage-way, 
above  which  in  no  place  was  it  elevated  more,  than  six 
or  eight  inches.  The  lodge  bore  signs  of  recent  occu- 
pation on  one  side,  and  contained  fresh  grass,  and  a 
freshly  peeled  stick  some  four  inches  long.  The  top  of 
the  chamber  had  numerous  pointed  sticks  protruding 
through  it,  but  its  sides  were  quite  smooth,  as  like- 
wise was  the  floor.  The  interior  was  five  feet  wide 
and  nearly  round.  One  of  the  dead  larches  helped  to 
support  the  structure  about  half-way  between  the  centre 
and  the  circumference,  and  next  to  the  main  exit.  The 
beavers  had  gnawed  it  about  half-way  through. 

The  sticks,  which  formed  a  part  of  the  material  of 
these  two  houses,  varied  in  length  from  ten  inches  to 
ten  feet.  The  shorter  ones  were  generally  from  two 
and  a  half  to  three  inches  in  diameter,  and  from  this 
fact,  and  the  presence  of  these  sticks  in  the  walls  of 
the  lodge,  it  seems  fair  to  argue  that  they  were  cut 
short  simply  for  convenience  in  transportation.  A  few 
of  these  short,  thick  cuttings  were  also  found  in  and 


134  '  WOODS   AND   LAKES    OF   MAINE. 

ori  top  of  the  dam,  which  in  many  places  otherwise 
consisted  almost  entirely  of  loam.  On  the  top  of  the 
deserted  lodge  was  a  freshly  cut  cedar  stick,  the  only 
fresh  cutting  in  the  place;  and  during  our  excavations 
we  also  found  a  few  old  spruce  and  larch  or  hackma- 
tack sticks,  from  which  the  bark  had  never  been 
removed. 

The  third  lodge  was  more  interesting  than  either 
of  the  others.  It  stood  opposite  their  centre,  and  its 
base  ran  to  within  two  feett  of  their  base,  and  almost 
touched  the'  water's  edge  on  two  sides.  It  was  very 
low,  and  when  first  seen  was  taken  to  be  merely  a 
heap  of  old  beaver-sticks  brought  there  for  future'  use.. 
On  the  side  towards  the  open  water  of  the  pond  the 
sticks  were  almost  bare,  and  were  piled  u-p  in  several 
irregular  layers,  just  as  they  had  been  dragged  out  of 
the  water,  so  that  it  was  but  the  work  of  a  few 
moments  to  lift  them  off  and  uncover  the  interior. 
They  formed  a  wall  or  roof  not-  more  than  a  foot 
thick,  and  there  was  no  mud  nor  loam  on  them,  except 
a  very  little  next  the  chamber,  and  that  appeared  to. 
be  soil  "  in  place,"  so  to  speak.  On  the  other  side  of 
this  lodge  the  water  of  the  pond,  as  before  stated, 
reached  almost  to  the  edge  of  the  structure  through  a 
narrow  and  shallow  trench,  and  up  this  side  the  beav- 
ers had  brought  a  quantity  of  oozy  loam,  and  put  it 
upon  the  top  of  the  lodge.  In  so  doing  they  had 
scattered  it  up  the  entire  side  for  the  width  of  a  foot, 
and  had  made  quite  a  smooth  slide,  or  pathway,  in 
which  could  be  plainly  seen  the  marks  of  their  feet. 


BEAVER   LODGES.  135 

The  smoothness  of  this  path  was  apparently  due  to  the 
dragging  of  the  beavers'  tails  in  their  movements  to 
and  fro,  but  careful  examination  failed  to  show  any 
distinct  tail-marks,  or  impressions,  either  here  or  on 
the  deposits  of  loam  on  the  top  of  the  lodge,  to  indicate 
the  use  of  his  tail  by  the  beaver  as  a  trowel.* 


BEA.VER  LODGE. 

The  most  instructive  feature  of  this  lodge  was  a 
small  hemlock  bush,  "some  four  feet  high,  which  seemed 
to  grow  out  of  its  centre.  On  reaching  the  chamber, 
we  found  that  the  stem  of  this  bush  protruded  into 
it  about  two  inches  below  the  top.  The  bush  had 

*  Among  the  extraordinary  habits  attributed  to  the  beaver  by  early  ex- 
plorers, and  which  have  since  been  denied,  this  of  using  the  tail  like  a  trowel 
is  the  only  one  which  still  finds  a  believer  among  the  more  intelligent  writers 
of  to-day.  Lewis  H.  Morgan,  in  his  exhaustive  and  admirable  treatise,  "  The 
American  Beaver  and  his  Works,"  on  page  29,  says :  "  But  he  uses  his  tail  to 
pack  and  compress  mud  and  earth  while  constructing  a  lodge  or  dam,  which  he 
effects  by  heavy  and  repeated  down  strokes."  It  appears  on  page  225,  that 
the  author  rests  his  conclusion,  not  on  his  own  observations,  but  on  those  of 
another  person.  Samuel  Hearne  was  a  firm  disbeliever  in  this  theory. 


136  WOODS  AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

been  gnawed  off,  and  its  roots  removed  as  well.  There 
cannot  be  the  slightest  doubt  that  it  grew  on  the 
spot,  and  this  fact,  together  with  others  previously 
noted,  leads  naturally  to  conclusions  as  to  the  first 
steps  taken  in  the  construction  of  a  lodge.  A  suitable 
site  is  selected  by  the  beavers,  within  a  few  feet  of 
the  water's  edge,  and  one  or  more  passages  are  bur- 
rowed into  it  from  the  water.  The  hole  made  above 
water  level,  at  the  surface  of  the  ground,  is  probably 
left  temporarily  small.  It  is  then  covered  with  over- 
lapping sticks,  any  tree  or  bush  within  its  limits  serv- 
ing as  a  prop,  but  not  being  necessary  for  that  purpose, 
during  the  early  stages  of  construction.  When  these 
sticks  are  several  layers  deep,  mud  or  loam  is  added, 
sometimes  mixed  with  the  fibrous  roots  of  grass  or 
water  plants,  and  principally  on  the  highest  part  of  the 
structure.  This  mud  is  so  soft  that  of  its  own  weight, 
and  aided  by  subsequent  rains,  it  sinks  into  and  fills 
up  most  of  the  interstices  between  the  sticks.  Later, 
as  the  lodge  assumes  due  thickness  and  stability,  the 
interior  is  enlarged,  and  in  some  cases  the  prop  is 
removed.  The  enlarging  process  is  probably  not  con- 
fined to  a  lateral  extension,  but  as  the  top  of  the 
chamber  may  sink  from  accumulated  weight  above  it, 
its  material  is  smoothed  off,  or  removed,  in  the  same 
manner.  Late  in  the  autumn  the  entire  lodge  is  cov- 
ered with  fibrous  mud  or  loam,  to  the  depth  of  several 
inches,  as  a  protection  against  enemies  and  the  cold 
of  winter. 

In  the  new  lodge   above   described   the  writer  found 


BEAVEB,    CUTTINGS.  137 

several  short  and  fresh  cuttings,  one  of  which,  appar- 
ently of  yellow  birch,  seven  inches  long  and  one  inch 
in  diameter,  had  been  peeled,  and  its  fibrous  part  freshly 
gnawed  along  almost  its  entire  length,  to  the  depth  of 
an  eighth  of  an  inch. 

On  our  way  down  Allagash  Stream  below  the  lake,  we 
came  upon  an  old  beaver  clearing  on  a  small  island  where 
formerly  had  stood  a  grove  of  mountain-ash  trees.  Many 
of  them  —  the  smaller  ones  —  had  been  cut  down  by  the 
beavers  and  entirely  removed,  while  others  lay  prostrate, 
and  a  few  still  stood  erect,  gnawed  partly  through. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  beaver  always  cuts  his  trees 
so  that  they  shall  fall  into  the  water,  when  this  is  pos- 
sible. Of  the  prostrate  trunks  in  this  clearing,  ten  lay 
landwards,  while  five  lay  in  or  towards  the  water.  The 
trunks  in  the  water  had  been  stripped  of  their  boughs  ;  the 
others,  as  a  rule,  had  not.  Three  of  the  largest  trees  had 
been  gnawed  equally  on  all  sides.  One  of  these  measured 
three  feet  and  four  inches  in  circumference  at  the  bottom 
of  the  cut,  and  the  next  smaller  one  an  inch  less.  Most 
of  the  trees  were  gnawed  almost  to  the  heart  on  one  side, 
and  but  little  on  the  opposite  side.  Many  of  those  which 
had  fallen  still  clung  to  their  stumps  by  the  shivered 
tendons  of  the  heart,  but  in  a  number  of  cases  both  stump 
and  trunk  had  been  gnawed  off  smoothly,  —  another  evi- 
dence, if  any  be  wanted,  tending  to  show  that  beavers  eat 
of  the  fibrous  wood.  Many  of  the  trunks  had  been  partly 
cut  through,  three  or  four  feet  from  the  but.  It  was 
noticeable  that  many  of  the  trees  were  gnawed  most  on 
the  side  away  from  the  water,  —  and  that,  too,  when  their 


138  WOODS  AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

stems  grew  perfectly  straight,  —  not  the  side  a  woodman 
would  cut  in  order  to  fell  them  into  the  water. 

From  these  observations,  and  from  the  further  fact, 
well  established,  that  several  beavers  often  gnaw  simulta- 
neously to  fell  a  tree,  the  inference  seems  fair  that  these 
animals  do  their  tree-cutting  from  such  side  or  sides  as 
convenience  may  require  or  "  fancy  "  dictate. 

On  the  morning  after  our  beaver  excursion,  when  we 
awoke,  there  was  a  thick  mist  hanging  over  lake  and 
forest;  but  it  quickly  gave  place  to  a  bright  sky,  the 
barometer  in  twelve  hours  having  "risen"  nearly  half 
an  inch.  We  packed  up  our  things  and  were  soon  on 
Megkwakagamocsis,  on  whose  eastern  shore  we  pitched 
our  tents,  in  a  spot  where  the  trailing  arbutus  grew  in 
profusion.  From  this  circumstance  we  called  the  place 
"  Arbutus  Camp."  The  afternoon  was  spent  principally 
in  adorning  our  abode,  and  in  adding  a  table  and  some 
other  conveniences  to  the  camp  furniture.  That  day  was 
perhaps  the  most  beautiful  one  of  the  thirty-eight  days  of 
our  absence  from  home,  and  was  especially  noticeable,  as 
it  was  followed  by  some  of  the  most  execrable  weather 
the  writer  has  ever  experienced  in  the  Maine  woods. 

Towards  evening  Silas  and  the  writer  went  to  the 
south  cove  and  set  several  traps  for  musquash,  and  while 
there  distinctly  heard  a  moose  "  talking,"  as  the  Indians 
say,  which  consists  in  making,  at  short  intervals,  a  sort 
of  subdued  grunt  expressive  of  content.  We  glided  steal- 
thily along  the  shore,  and  waited  long  in  the  hope  that 
the  old  fellow  would  show  himself,  but  he  did  not. 

Our  favorite  amusement,  after  the  day's  chores  were 


HIGH-LOW-JACK.  139 

done,  and  when  we  were  not  too  tired  and  sleepy,  was  to 
play  a  four-handed  game  of  cards.  "High-low-jack"  is 
the  game,  par  excellence,  among  the  guides,  and  a  great 
rivalry  had  sprung  up  almost  from  the  outset  of  our 
journey,  between  the  respective  occupants  of  the  two 
canoes,  to  see  which  should  carry  off  the  championship. 

"  Well,  Silas,"  the  Captain  would  say,  "  how  is  your 
courage  to-night  ?  "  "  Always  good,"  replies  the  Indian. 

The  blankets  are  now  smoothed  out  in  the  centre  of 
the  tent,  a  candlestick  improvised  by  sharpening  a  stick, 
splitting  its  upper  end,  and  inserting  in  the  split  a  loop 
of  birch  bark,  into  which  a  candle  is  fitted,  and  then  each 
player  makes  himself  as  comfortable  as  he  can,  either  by 
reclining  on  his  elbow,  or  sitting,  Turkish  fashion,  with  a 
pile  of  blankets  behind  his  back.  The  game  goes  merrily 
on.  Joe  deals.  "  I  ask  one,"  says  Silas,  looking  very 
wise.  "  Go  ahead,"  says  Joe  after  due  reflection,  "  I  give 
you  one  —  on  my  partner's  hand."  Two  or  three  rounds 
are  played.  "  That 's  my  meat! "  cries  Joe  with  a  chuckle, 
being  fourth  hand,  as  his  partner  throws  a  ten  on  Silas's 
ace,  and  the  writer  hesitates  what  to  play.  The  trick 
is  Joe's  "  meat,"  for  he  takes  it,  and  swings  his  ace  of 
trumps,  saying,  "  Mebbe  he 's  all  alone."  What  shouts 
of  laughter  greet  the  capture  of  the  jack  on  such  an  oc- 
casion, and  how  gay  is  Joe's  merry  "  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Well, 
well !  "  after  such  an  achievement  by  himself  or  his  part- 
ner !  How  triumphant,  too,  the  announcement  by  the 
victors,  at  the  end  of  play,  as  to  the  number  of  games 
their  opponents  "  owe  "  them  ! 

Then  comes  the  final  "  toasting  "  of  cold  feet  or  hands, 


140  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

before  the  fragrant  and  sizzling  birchen  logs.  Our  pockets 
are  emptied  of  their  contents,  nightcaps  drawn  on,  "  head- 
ing" arranged,  and  at  last  the  many  tired  limbs  are 
stretched  beneath  the  blankets.  With  a  sense  of  pro- 
found thankfulness  we  contemplate  the  flickering  of  the 
fire-light  on  the  tent.  What  quiet !  What  rest !  The 
smoke  eddies  and  curls  in  fairy  forms,  and  floats  up,  - 
up,  —  up,  —  into  Fancy's  realms.  Thither  we  follow,  led 
by  the  silvery  cords  which  entwine  us  in  their  meshes. 
Our  limbs,  one  by  one,  refuse  to  act,  and  finally,  envel- 
oped in  the  incense  of  the  camp  fire,  we  are  lost  in 
peaceful  slumber. 

The  next  day  the  traps  were  visited  early,  and  one 
muskrat  was  the  only  booty  found  in  them  •  and  this  was 
a  "  kitten,"  as  Silas  called  it,  the  offspring  of  that  year. 
As  we  held  it  up  before  the  Captain,  and  informed  that 
gentleman  that  there  was  his  dinner,  he  asked  what  it 
was.  The  question  having  been  answered,  he  exclaimed 
jeeringly,  "  Muskrat !  I  should  call  it  a  musk-mouse  "  ; 
and  ever  afterwards,  when  Silas  and  the  writer  went  to 
set  the  traps,  he  scoffingly  bade  us  not  to  bring  home 
any  more  of  those  "  musk-mice."  We  noticed,  however, 
that,  when  the  cassambo  was  made,  the  dainty  bits  of 
fresh  meat  were  appreciated  by  the  Captain  fully  as  well 
as  if  they  had  been  large  and  less  tender. 

That  afternoon  the  guides,  who  had  been  prospecting, 
reported  that  they  had  seen  Mooseleuk1  Mountain  and 
Musquacook  Lake,2  and  an  intervening  bog,  over  which  lay 
our  route,  and  which  seemed  to  be  fine  country  for  game. 

1  "  Moose  place."  2  Or  Maskmecook,  "  birch-bark  place." 


SKETCHING  BY   MOONLIGHT.  141 

We  had  hoped  to  call  moose  that  night ;  but  the  wind, 
although  very  light,  was  provokingly  persistent.  The 
moon  was  in  her  second  quarter,  and,  when  not  obscured 
by  passing  shower-clouds,  shone  brightly,  and  made  radiant 
with  her  floods  of  light  the  patches  of  forest  tangle.  The 
beauty  of  the  scene  was  too  much  for  Sartor,  who  arose 
and  made  a  sketch  of  it,  after  we  had  all  gone  to  bed. 
The  writer,  turning  over  drowsily,  noticed  the  absence  of 
his  companion,  and  looked  out  to  see  the  cause  of  it.  The 
Captain  sat  by  the  table  with  paper  and  pencil  before  him. 
A  lighted  candle  was  at  his  side,  surrounded  by  tin-plates, 
dippers,  and  pans,  for  reflectors  and  shields  from  the  wind, 
and  these  were  propped  up  by  forks,  boiled  potatoes,  and 
a  rubber  boot.  During  showers  he  would  dive  into  the 
tent,  and  out  again  after  they  had  passed,  to  complete  his 
work.  Surely  this  was  sketching  under  difficulties. 

In  the  morning  Silas  brought  into  camp  one  muskrat, 
this  time  a  big  one.  The  wind  soon  began  to  blow  a  gale 
from  the  northwest,  and  before  night  changed  around  to 
northeast,  bringing  with  it  a  blinding  snow-squall.  The 
mercury  went  down  to  28°,  and  extra  clothing  was  pulled 
out  from  the  bottoms  of  our  bags,  and  drawn  on  to  our 
shivering  bodies.  This  day  and  parts  of  the  two  follow- 
ing were  devoted  by  the  guides  to  path-cutting  and  pre- 
paring a  new  camp  ground  on  Bog  Brook,  and  to  carrying 
a  part  of  our  luggage  up  to  it.  They  had  found  that  the 
old  tote-road,  on  which  we  were  now  encamped,  ran  up 
the  brook  for  several  miles,  and  over  to  the  head-waters 
of  Musquacook,  and,  save  some  needed  "  bushing  out "  and 
bridging,  was  in  very  fair  condition.  For  the  other  mem- 


142  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

bers  of  the  party  these  three  days  had,  unfortunately,  a 
great  deal  of  sameness.  Snow  fell,  accompanied  by  gusts 
of  bitter  wind.  At  night  the  sun  would  go  down  in  a 
"  golden  glory,"  giving  promise  of  fair  weather ;  but  in 
the  morning  the  same  old  leaden  clouds  would  be  there, 
and  the  same  chilling  wind,  which  froze  the  water  in  our 
pails  and  almost  the  marrow  in  our  bones. 

One  morning  while  we  were  at  breakfast,  the  end  of 
our  cooking-stick,  or  kokwa'took  as  Joe  called  it,  dropped 
off  and  fell  into  the  fire.  Joe  said  this  was  a  sure  sign 
that  we  should  run  short  of  food,  an  announcement  which 
did  not  surprise  us  at  all.  Joe  also  said,  that  among  his 
people  the  old  hunters  were  very  superstitious,  and  would 
never  allow  their  kokwatook  to  burn  off.  He  did  not 
seem  to  think,  however,  that  this  precaution  was  a  pre- 
ventive against  hunger ;  for,  added  he,  "  I  use  to  be  in 
the  same  situation.  Now,  I  look  pretty  sharp  for  me.  I 

carry  all  sorts  of  grub,"  with  hesitation,  "  when  I 

kin  git  it."  Joe's  English  was  generally  very  good,  for  a 
self-educated  man,  but  it  was  often  just  wrong  enough 
to  make  listening  to  him  quite  interesting.  Two  peculi- 
arities of  it  were  his  hesitation,  and  the  emphasis  often 
placed  on  the  wrong  word,  especially  in  cases  of  antithe- 
sis, the  latter  a  peculiarity  with  which  the  construction 
of  his  own  language  may  have  had  something  to  do. 
Both  he  and  Silas  frequently  used  the  present  tense  of 
the  verb  for  the  past,  in  accordance  with  the  usage  of 
some  Indian  tribes. 

During  our  stay  at  Arbutus  Camp,  Joe  exclaimed  one 
morning,  "  By  thunder,  we  're  goin'  to  have  a  snow'  - 


JOE'S   ENGLISH.  143 

shower"';  and  when  the  snow  seemed  to  be  coming  at 
last,  "We  shall  have  it  that  time;  I  know  it -long  time 
ago ;  I  know  it  since  this  morning,  when  I  first  git  up." 
But  the  threatened  storm-cloud  blew  over,  after  having 
deposited  at  the  sides  of  our  tents  hundreds  of  little  white 
pellets,  which  Sartor  said  made  the  premises  look  as  "  if 
a  homoeopathic  pharmacy  had  been  tipped  upside  down." 
Two  more  animals  fell  into  our  basket,  another  of  the 
Captain's  "  musk-mice,"  and  a  young  otter  (Lutra  Cana- 
densis)  that  had  got  caught  in  one  of  the  musquash-traps, 
and  was  very  savage  as  we  approached  him.  "  One  hide 
to  take  home,  anyhow,"  remarked  the  Captain. 

The  last  night  of  our  stay  on  Megkwakagamocsis  we 
made  a  futile  attempt  to  "  call "  moose,  and  Joe  tried  to 
encourage  us  by  saying  that  he  had  heard  a  moose  that 
day  up  the  brook,  and  had  seen  some  very  large  and  fresh 
tracks.  "  You  can't  see  a  bush  handy  to  the  stream,"  he 
said,  "  has  n't  been  cut,  —  all  eat  by  moose.  Small  spruce 
rubbed  by  bulls.  Logging  road  all  nice,  —  travelled  by 
moose,  —  all  cut  up.  Moose  come  in  alder-ground  now. 
He 's  looking  for  this" — with  a  gesture  of  the  hand — ' 
"  this  red  —  willow." 

Before  we  went  to  bed  a  good  fire  was  built,  over 
which,  at  a  height  of  about  six  feet  from  the  ground, 
hung  a  pail  of  beans.  The  opinion  seems  to  prevail  that 
for  genuine  baked  beans  an  iron  pot  and  a  bean-hole  are 
essential.  We  had  undertaken  too  hard  a  trip  to  encum- 
ber ourselves  with  a  bean-pot,  and  had  made  up  our 
minds  to  eat  our  beans  boiled,  but  Joe  said  he  could  give 
us  as  good  a  dish  as  we  wanted,  and  that  too  without 


144  WOODS  AND  "LAKES  OF  MAINE. 

either  iron  pot  or  hole ;  and  he  did  it  by  preparing  the 
beans  just  as  he  would  for  a  regular  baking,  and  then 
hanging  them  high  over  a  good  fire  when  we  went  to 
bed.  The  writer  can  recommend  beans  cooked  in  this 
way  as  a  very  superior  article,  and  one  prepared  with 
comparatively  little  trouble. 

The  next  day  we  moved  to  our  new  camp,  which 
was  near  the  edge  of  an  extensive  bog.  Through  the 
bog  ran  Bog  Brook,  a  stream  which  for  ages  probably 
had  been  the  abode  of  beavers.  Their  old  dam  was  at 
the  lower  end  of  the  bog,  and  the  sticks  had  all  disap- 
peared from  it,  leaving  a  mass  of  solid  earth  and  gravel, 
out  of  which  grew  several  sturdy  bushes.  Along  the 
brook  lay  a  wide  strip  of  grassy  land,  which  formerly 
had  been  overflowed  by  this  dam.  A  young  growth  of 
larches  now  flourished  in  it.  The  stream  had  worn  a 
new  channel  through  the  turf  at  one  end  of  the  dam, 
the  latter  having  been  too  solid  to  be  itself  swept  away. 
We  were  very  quiet  in  our  movements  that  afternoon, 
and  no  chopping  was  done,  but  dry  stubs  were  pushed 
down  and  gathered  in  quantities  sufficient  for  our  use 
over  night.  Silas  said  this  was  the  invariable  habit  of 
good  hunters,  when  in  the  vicinity  of  game.  Joe  got 
a  large  piece  of  birch-bark,  and  from  it  made  a  horn,  two 
feet  long,  five  and  a  half  inches  in  diameter  at  the  large 
end,  and  an  inch  and  a  half  at  the  other.  This  was  our 
"  moose-horn." 


CHAPTER   X. 

MOONLIGHT  ON  THE  BOG.  —  MOOSE   CALLING.  —  AN   ANSWER. —  A 
BIG  BULL. — THE  MOOSE  BIRD.  —  MOOSE  AND  CARIBOU  TRACKS. 

—  ANTLERS.  —  BEAVER   MEAT.  —  BIRCH   BARK   AND   ITS   USES. 

—  A  BIRCHEN   AGE. 

A  FTER  supper,  at  six  o'clock,  the  wind  having  been 
succeeded  by  an  almost  absolute  calm,  the  guides 
and  the  writer  put  on  all  the  clothes  they  had,  which 
included  two  pairs  of  socks  and  trousers  for  each,  and 
several  coats,  and,  armed  with  rifle,  tin  dipper,  and 
moose-horn,  stepped  into  their  canoe  with  moccasoned 
feet,  and  pushed  silently  off  from  the  shore.  Joe,  in 
spite  of  the  writer's  misgivings,  had  previously  lighted 
his  pipe,  saying  that,  if  he  would  call  the  moose  up  to 
within  two  feet  of  the  canoe,  he  must  have  a  smoke 
first,  "  to  make  it  sure."  The  moon,  now  in  her  second 
quarter,  was  about  an  hour  high,  and  from  over  the 
eastern  line  of  forest  shone  resplendent  on  the  bog  and 
stream  below,  casting  dark  shadows  into  the  water, 
and  making  the  spruces  and  larches  look  blacker  than 
ever.  A  gauzy  film  of  mist-cloud  overspread  the  eastern 
heavens,  and  a  broad  ring  of  light  encircling  the  moon 
gave  token  of  impending  rain.  The  water  was  smooth 
as  a  mirror,  and  dotted  with  lily-pads  and  long,  drooping 
spears  of  grass,  while  over  it  and  near  its  surface  hung 


148  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

a  light  mist,  which  floated  almost  imperceptibly  from  us 
towards  the  head  of  the  bog.  The  scene  was  superb,  and 
strangely  in  contrast  with  the  errand  on  which  we  were 
bent.  The  silence  that  enfolded  us  as  we  floated  onward, 
impelled  by  the  strokes  of  the  ever-hidden  paddle-blade, 
was  broken  only  by  the  "  Hoo-oo-o !  "  of  an  owl,  which 
called  forth  from  Joe  in  subdued  tones  the  exclamation, 
"  Ugh !  we  goin'  have  some  rain."  The  writer  occupied 
the  middle  of  the  canoe,  his  knees  resting  on  a  blanket 
spread  over  the  bottom,  while  the  principal  part  of  his 
weight  was  supported  by  the  middle  thwart,  on  which  he 
partially  sat.  Silas  took  the  stern,  and  Joe  with  dipper 
and  horn  was  in  the  bow. 

Silently  and  carefully  we  paddled  up  the  bog,  peering 
anxiously  into  the  blackness  under  the  trees,  in  a  vain 
search  for  some  moving  object.  Ever  and  anon  the 
water  before  us  was  rippled  like  a  flash  by  the  retreat 
of  some  fish  that  we  had  disturbed  in  the  quiet  of  his 
shallow  home,  or  we  were  startled  by  the  plunge  of  a 
musquash  from  his  play-ground  on  the  bank. 

When  we  had  reached  what  Joe  considered  a  favorable 
point,  he  laid  aside  his  pipe,  noiselessly  placed  his  paddle 
across  the  canoe  in  front  of  him,  and,  taking  up  the  horn, 
dipped  its  large  end  several  times  into  the  water.  Then, 
putting  the  small  end  to  his  mouth,  he  called,  "  Oo-ugh, 
oo-ugh,  oo-ugh,  oo-ugh,  oo-oo-oo-oo-ugh !  "  the  first  notes 
being  short,  rounded,  and  plaintive,  while  the  last  one 
was  prolonged  several  seconds,  grew  in  intensity  towards 
the  end,  and  finished  with  a  downward  inflection,  —  the 
embodiment  of  all  that  is  dismal. 


MOOSE  CALLING.  149 

The  call  resounded  over  the  bog,  and  was  taken  up 
by  hill  and  mountain  until  its  last  echo  died  away  in 
the  far  distance.  Hark !  what  was  that  ?  Was  it  an 
answering  note  from  out  the  forest,  miles  away?  No, 
it  was  the  beating  of  my  heart,  magnified  a  hundred 
times.  And  that  ?  Was  it  the  crash  of  a  breaking 
bough  ?  No,  it  was  the  grating  of  a  lily-pad  against 
the  side  of  the  canoe.  A  long  and  breathless  waiting. 
Our  senses  are  all  concentrated  into  one,  that  of  hearing. 
A  drop  of  water  falls  from  the  idle  paddle-blade,  and, 
sparkling  in  the  moonlight,  joins  its  kindred  substance 
with  a  loud  metallic  ring.  The  action  of  our  lungs,  in 
breathing,  turns  our  clothing  into  bellows,  whose  dis- 
cordant creaks  must  startle  any  game  that  comes  near 
us.  Hark  again !  Surely  that  was  no  fancy  of  mine, 
no  deception.  Joe  heard  it  too.  His  head  is  turned. 
He  listens  intently.  Hark  again !  From  the  depths  of 
the  forest  far  to  the  north  comes  a  faint  sound  like  the 
dull  thud  of  an  axe,  and  hardly  distinguishable  among 
the  many  notes  Fancy  had  just  been  pouring  into  my 
ear.  "  He  is  coming,"  whispers  Silas.  Joe  nods  his 
head,  and,  grasping  the  horn,  calls  again,  to  guide  "his 
Mooseship  "  to  the  proper  spot.  "  Oghk  !  "  —  I  heard 
it  then.  "Oghk!" — again  out  of  the  wooded  aisles, 
this  time  more  distinctly,  and  in  a  deep  guttural  tone. 
"Oghk!" — there  it  is  again,  nearer  still.  A  tremor 
comes  over  my  limbs.  They  quiver  with  expectation  and 
excitement.  Try  as  I  may,  I  cannot  control  it.  Joe 
answers  again,  less  loudly  than  before.  The  bull  is  near- 
ing  the  stream  above  us.  "Let's  go  up,"  whispers  Joe, 


150  WOODS   AND  LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

and  the  two  paddles  dip  deeply  and  silently  into  the 
water,  as  we  speed  towards  our  prey.  "  Oghk !  oghk  ! 
oghk ! "  come  in  quick  succession  and  impatiently  from 
the  bank  before  us.  The  canoe  stops.  My  trusty  rifle 
is  ready  and  the  nervous  tremor  is  gone.  Joe's  dipper 
is  full  of  water,  and  lifted  high  it  pours  its  contents 
slowly  into  the  stream,  with  several  pauses.  "  Oghk ! 
oghk  !  oghk  !  "  — a  mighty  crash  among  the  underbrush  ! 
The  old  bull  so  near  his  fancied  mistress  is  in  a  perfect 
frenzy.  Look  !  look !  See  that  black  mass  !  The  canoe 
swings  slowly  around,  that  I  may  fire  without  change 
of  position.  What  if  I  should  overshoot !  Heavens ! 
I  cannot  see  the  fore-sight  on  my  gun  against  the  black- 
ness of  the  trees.  But  why  does  he  not  come  on  ?  He 
hesitates.  He  turns.  He  is  coming  round,  to  avoid  that 
muddy  brook.  We  turn  again,  and  slowly  paddle  up  the 
stream  abreast  of  the  calls,  which  come  with  frequency 
from  the  forest  beyond  the  open  bog  on  our  left.  Every 
now  and  then  a  dead  tree  branch  is  snapped  off  or  broken 
under  foot  by  the  moose  in  his  course,  who  seems  to  lay 
about  him  violently  among  the  underbrush,  knocking 
against  the  smaller  trees  with  his  horns,  and  apparently 
in  a  state  of  great  excitement.  Joe's  most  defiant  chal- 
lenges and  most  winning  lows  fail  equally  to  bring  him 
again  to  the  water's  edge.  The  old  fellow  is  too  suspi- 
cious. "  Must  have  cow  with  him,"  explained  Joe  after 
fifteen  minutes  of  waiting.  "  Can't  get  him  to-night ; 
mebbe  to-morrow  mornin'."  But  the  old  bull  had  no 
cow  with  him,  as  subsequent  examination  of  his  tracks 
proved.  The  few  whiffs  of  tobacco  from  Joe's  pipe  had 


HUNTING   THE   MOOSE.  151 

reached  the  bank  of  the  stream  where  the  moose  first 
came  out  to  it.  The  odor  was  strong  enough  to  be 
detected  by  his  delicate  nostrils,  and,  mistrusting  our 
presence,  he  had  merely  circled  us  to  get  our  wind.  The 
tracks  he  made  were  enormous.  Did  ever  disappointed 
hunter  lose  any  but  the  mightiest  of  game,  or  fisherman 
any  but  the  largest  of  trout  ? 

The  failure  to  get  this  moose  was  no  small  disappoint- 
ment to  the  writer.  He  had  hoped  to  take  advantage 
of  the  presence  of  his  friend  and  companion  on  this 
excursion,  to  secure  a  correct  drawing  of  that  noble 
animal,  whose  extinction,  unfortunately,  is  likely  to  be 
a  matter  of  only  a  few  years.  Of  all  the  representa- 
tions of  the  moose  that  have  heretofore  come  under  the 
writer's  observation,  and  he  has  made  diligent  search 
for  all  that  could  be  found,  none  does  justice  to  the 
moose's  head.  Happily  the  non-success  of  our  present 
efforts  was  amply  made  up  for  during  the  succeeding 
autumn. 

The  writer  with  his  Indian  guide,  Jean  Baptiste,  had 
been  camping  on  the  shores  of  Telos  Lake,1  and  was  on 
his  way  to  its  outlet  one  morning  about  nine  o'clock, 
when  simultaneously  he  and  his  guide  were  attracted, 
the  one  by  a  noise  and  the  other  by  the  sheen  of  the  sun 
on  the  antlers  of  a  big  moose.  The  object  of  their  atten- 
tion stood  at  the  water's  edge  on  the  farther  shore  of  the 
lake,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  alternately  looking 
up  and  down  the  lake,  and  lowering  his  head  and  nose 
to  the  ground,  as  if  trying  to  scent  something.  At  short 

1  Sahkkahe'gan,  "  water  connecting  with  another  body  of  water." 


152  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

intervals  we  could  hear  his  "  Oo-ugh ! "  the  noise  the 
writer  had  heard  at  first,  and  we  concluded  that  the  old 
fellow  was  in  search  of  a  mate.  Turning  the  canoe,  we 
began  to  paddle  rapidly  towards  him.  Jean  Baptiste 
once  answered  the  "  call/'  and  the  moose  looked  up  in  our 
direction ;  but  as  we  remained  motionless,  and  as  the  wind 
was  in  our  favor,  he  apparently  thought  his  senses  had 
deceived  him.  The  moose's  perceptive  faculties  are 
reached  principally  through  his  nose  and  ears.  His  eyes 
do  not  seem  to  have  the  power  of  rapid  transmission  to 
the  brain,  at  least  to  that  part  of  it  which  may  be  the 
seat  of  fear,  and  neither  what  he  sees  nor  what  he  hears 
has  one  tithe  of  the  effect  on  him  of  what  he  smells. 
In  this  case,  although  he  did  not  again  look  directly  at 
us,  still  he  was  in  a  position  from  which  the  common 
red  deer  (Cervus  Virginianus)  would  have  seen  us  at 
once  and  taken  in  the  situation  at  a  glance. 

That  the  bull  was  a  large  one  we  could  plainly  see, 
as  he  awkwardly  went  up  the  slope  of  a  mound  and  stood 
half  concealed  behind  a  group  of  birch  trees.  His  long 
legs,  short  neck,  massive  horns,  and  black  coat  gave  him 
a  gaunt,  ungainly  appearance,  fascinating  from  its  very 
uncouthness.  Jean  Baptiste  plied  his  paddle  now  to  the 
utmost,  and  we  were  rapidly  approaching  the  shore,  when 
the  moose  moved  out  from  his  cover  and  walked  slowly 
towards  the  thick  woods.  The  writer's  "Winchester" 
spoke  three  times :  the  bull  wheeled  and  faced*  the  oppo- 
site direction,  holding  his  head  very  high.  Another  shot, 
and  he  wheeled  again  and  disappeared  behind  some 
spruces.  We  soon  reached  the  shore,  sprang  out,  and 


THE   MOOSE   BIED.  153 

ran  up  to  the  edge  of  the  woods,  to  see  our  game  be- 
yond us  in  a  little  opening.  He  was  on  his  knees ;  his 
head  and  body  swayed  from  side  to  side,  and  he  soon 
sank  to  the  ground.  We  approached  him,  but  he  was 
too  far  gone  even  to  put  his  ears  back,  as  hunters  say 
moose  do,  at  sight  of  man,  when  they  are  badly  wounded, 
and  in  a  few  moments  he  was  dead.  The  sun  was  just 
appearing  above  the  trees  that  surrounded  this  little 
forest  cove,  and  we  heard  near  by  the  merry  note  of  the 
Canada  jay,  or  moose-bird,  "  What  cheer,  what  cheer, 
what  cheer  !  "  —  a  most  unnecessary  inquiry  on  this  occa- 
sion, we  thought,  for  he  doubtless  had  been  watching 
our  proceedings  from  the  tree-tops,  and  knew  full  well 
what  abundant  pickings  he  would  have  after  we  should 
have  gone.1 

The  writer's  camera  was  at  once  brought  from  the 
canoe,  and  six  plates  were  exposed  before  the  dead  mon- 
arch of  the  Maine  forests,  and  from  one  of  the  resulting 

1  This  bird  is  one  of  the  tamest  that  one  meets  with  in  the  woods.  So 
bold  is  he,  that  he  will  almost  snatch  the  meat  from  a  person's  fork.  No  ex- 
posed food  is  safe  in  his  presence,  and  he  ravages  the  hunters'  traps,  by  pick- 
ing from  them  their  bait,  often  to  his  own  ensnarement.  His  notes  are  many, 
the  one  in  the  text  alternating  most  often  with  a  "  Whu  —  tsch-tsch-tsch  !  "  or 
with  "Whu-eeM  [do-sol],  Whu-ee'!  [do-fa]."  By  hunters  the  moose-bird  is 
said  to  nest  and  hatch  its  young  in  February  and  March. 

The  origin  of  another  name  for  the  moose-bird  is  thus  accounted  for  by 
Dr.  J.  Hammond  Trumbull,  in  a  note  in  the  Collections  of  the  Connecticut 
Historical  Society  :  — 

"  '  Whiskey  Jack,'  the  name  by  which  the  Canada  Jay  (Perisoreus  Cana- 
densis)  is  best  known  to  the  lumbermen  and  hunters  of  Maine  and  Canada,  is 
the  Montagnais  Ouishcatchan  (Cree,  Ouiskeshauneesli),  which  has  passed 
perhaps  through  the  transitional  forms  of  '  Ouiske  Jean '  and  *  Whiskey 
Johnny.'  "  —  Vol.  II.  p.  44. 


154  WOODS  AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

negatives  was  made  the  head  of  the  moose  in  the  frontis- 
piece:  the  body  was  drawn  from  studies  of  a  skeleton 
in  the  rooms  of  the  Boston  Natural  History  Society. 

Jean  Baptist e  said  our  moose  was  a  large  one,  and 
would  weigh  about  nine  hundred  pounds.  The  follow- 
ing are  some  measurements  we  made  on  the  spot.  From 
end  of  mouffle  to  line  between  base  of  horns,  2  ft.  3  in. ; 
from  end  of  mouffle  to  top  of  withers,  4  ft.  7  in. ;  from 
end  of  mouffle  to  tail,  10  ft.  2  in.  The  foregoing  were 
measured  along  the  animal's  outline,  as  he  lay  on  his 
belly  with  his  legs  under  him,  and  head  stretched  out 
in  front  with  lower  jaw  resting  on  the  ground.  Around 
the  mouffle,  about  six  inches  from  the  end,  the  measure- 
ment was  2  ft.  2 J  in. ;  from  end  of  "  bell "  to  base  of 
horn,  2  ft.  8  in.  ;  girth  of  neck,  half-way  from  ear  to 
shoulder,  4  ft.  10  in. ;  length  of  ear,  11  in. ;  from  tip  of 
one  ear  to  tip  of  the  other,  2  ft.  7  in. ;  from  hock  to  tip 
of  hoof,  2  ft.  7  in. ;  from  hock  to  tail,  2  ft.  9  in. ;  from 
middle  of  duclaw  to  tip  of  hoof,  9  in. ;  width  of  antlers 
at  tip,  2  ft.  8  in.  ;  width  at  widest  part,  4  ft.  2  in.  ;  cir- 
cumference of  horn  at  smallest  part  near  base,  8^  in. ; 
weight  of  horns  and  dry  skull,  39  pounds.  The  writer 
may  be  pardoned  for  adding  that  the  head  and  two  hind 
quarters  were  at  once  sent  to  Moosehead  Lake,  and  the 
greater  part  of  the  fore  quarters  was  afterwards  used  at 
Chamberlain  Farm,  so  that  very  little  of  the  meat  was 
wasted. 

The  first  question  asked  by  the  novice  in  the  woods 
when  he  sees  a  large  track,  and  is  told  carelessly  by  his 
guide,  as  Joe  once  expressed  himself,  "  Mebbe  moose 


MOOSE  AND  CAEIBOU.  157 

track;  mebbe  caribou  track"  How  can  one  distinguish 
between  the  two  ?  The  track  of  the  cow-moose  is  more 
pointed  than  that  of  the  bull,  while  both  are  much  more 
pointed  than  that  of  the  caribou.  This  is  the  chief  dif- 
ference. Again,  in  the  caribou's  hoof  the  outer  edges  are 
sharp,  and  the  bottom  of  the  hoof  slopes  upward  from 
the  outer  to  the  inner  edge.  The  bottom  of  the  moose's 
hoof  is  fuller  and  natter.  Consequently  the  caribou's 
track  in  the  mud  is  rounder,  and  deeper  at  the  sides  than 
in  the  middle,  while  in  the  case  of  the  moose  it  is  long, 
pointed,  and  almost  equally  deep  everywhere. 

It  seems  to  be  pretty  generally  admitted  that  the  age 
of  the  moose  can  be  correctly  estimated  by  the  size  and 
appearance  of  his  horns,  although  this  is  not  invariably 
the  case.  A  moose  in  good  condition,  strong  and  vigor- 
ous, will  have  thicker  and  heavier  horns  than  one  of 
equal  or  greater  age  that  happens  to  be  sickly.  The  time 
of  shedding  their  horns  also  varies,  but  as  a  rule  this 
takes  place  early  in  December.  An  Indian  hunter  of 
experience  once  told  the  writer  that  he  had  killed  two 
moose  together  in  the  first  week  of  February.  One  was 
"  poor,"  and  still  wore  his  horns,  while  his  mate  was 
much  larger,  and  had  lost  his,  and  had  new  ones  grow- 
ing, an  inch  long.  With  caribou,  too,  there  seem  to  be 
exceptions  which  would  indicate  that  the  physical  con- 
dition of  the  animal  has  much  to  do  with  the  shedding 
of  its  horns.  The  same  Indian  mentioned  above,  and  a 
white  hunter  also,  said  they  had  each  shot  a  caribou  on 
the  20th  of  November,  in  different  years,  and  both  ani- 
mals had  lost  their  horns.  In  one  case  the  skull  where 


158  WOODS  AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

the  horn  had  joined  it  was  still  red,  while  in  the  other 
it  had  already  healed  over  and  become  smooth.  Both 
were  fine-looking  animals.  The  same  two  hunters  said 
they  had  found  bucks,  seven  or  eight  years  old,  wearing 
their  horns  in  March,  —  once  as  late  as  the  20th  of 
that  month. 

When  the  horns  of  the  deer  family  are  young,  or  "  in 
the  velvet,"  —  say  from  April  to  August,  —  they  are  very 
soft,  and  bend  readily,  but  will  rarely  break.  They  are 
also  very  tender  to  the  touch,  and  at  such  times  the 
animals  seldom  venture  into  dense  underbrush,  but 
frequent  open  bogs  and  meadows.  The  female  caribou 
sometimes  has  short  horns. 

The  day  after  our  unsuccessful  moose  hunt,  the 
guides  went  on  their  usual  exploring  expedition,  and 
returned  at  seven  o'clock,  after  dark,  tired  and  wet. 
They  said  they  had  been  over  on  Fourth  and  Fifth  Mus- 
quacook  Lakes,  having  gone  up  the  bog  and  past  Clear 
Pond ; l  that  their  way  had  led  through  cedar  swamps 
and  mud-holes,  sometimes  taking  them  knee-deep  into 
slush  and  water.  Very  lucki]y  they  came  out  of  the 
woods  opposite  camp,  having  walked  some  distance  in 
the  dark,  guided,  as  they  said,  only  by  the  wind.  Joe 
had  set  two  large  traps  on  their  way  up  the  bog,  and 
early  the  next  morning  brought  into  camp  our  first 
beaver.  The  Indians  are  very  fond  of  the  flesh  of  the 
beaver,  and  the  arrival  of  this  one  was  hailed  with  great 
satisfaction,  Silas  remarking,  as  we  afterwards  sat  at 
table  picking  its  bones,  "  That  goes  right  in  the  spot." 

1  Nukancongamoc,  "  head-water  pond." 


BEAVEE   MEAT.  159 

Beaver-meat  has  a ,  decided  flavor,  peculiar  to  itself, 
and  often  slightly  disagreeable  at  first  to  one  who 
never  has  eaten  it.  This  flavor  is  more  noticeable  as 
the  animal  is  older,  when  the  flesh  needs  considerable 
"  bo-boiling,"  as  Joe  used  to  call  it,  and  a  generous 
seasoning  of  pepper.  The  tail  is  esteemed  a  great  del- 
icacy, and  is  eaten  roasted.  It  is  fleshless,  and  of  a 
soft,  gelatinous  nature.  The  talk  among  guides  about 
"  beaver-tail  soup "  seems  to  be,  so  far  as  the  writer 
can  learn,  a  bit  of  pleasantry,  and  nothing  more.  The 
liver  and  the  flesh  next  the  tail  are  considered  the 
best  parts  of  the  animal.  The  flesh  is  always  eaten 
boiled,  while  the  liver  is  spitted  on  a  green  stick, 
roasted,  and  served  up  with  butter,  salt,  and  pepper. 
It  is  a  most  delicious  dish. 

Our  next  care  was  to  stretch  and  dry  the  beaver's 
skin..  The  stem  of  a  long  cedar  bush  was  cut,  trimmed, 
bent  into  the  shape  of  a  hoop,  and  the  ends  bound 
together  with  cedar  bark.  Small  holes  were  made  an 
inch  or  more  apart  around  the  edge  of  the  skin,  and 
through  these  pieces  of  cedar  bark  were  passed,  and 
tied  over  the  periphery  of  the  hoop.  The  latter  was 
considerably  larger  than  the  width  or  length  of  the 
skin,  which  could  thus  be  stretched  at  will.  The  hoop 
was  then  hung  up  in  the  open  air  where  it  would  not 
be  exposed  too  much  to  the  sun,  and  in  a  few  days 
the  skin  was  dry  enough  to  pack  away  in  a  bag. 

The  Captain  was  very  much  elated  that  his  guide 
had  brought  into  camp  the  first  "respectable"  supply 
of  meat,  as  he  termed  it,  and  expressed  a  desire  to 


160  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

honor  the  occasion  in  some  unusual  and  suitable  man- 
ner; but  as  the  writer  had  the  only  flask  of  spirits  in 
the  party,  and  as  the  Captain  was,  besides,  morally 
opposed  to  the  use  of  liquor,  he  reluctantly  fell  back 
on  a  bottle  of  acid  phosphate,  which  Joe  modestly 
declined,  with  thanks.  A  matter  of  no  little  conse- 
quence to  the  Captain  was  the  fact  that  his  tobacco 
was  giving  out.  He  had  smoked  recklessly  thus  far, 
and  his  supply  was  now  reduced  to  a  thin,  narrow  plug, 
about  five  inches  long.  On  the  supposition  that  we 
should  be  seven  days  more  in  getting  down  to  Allagash 
Falls,  he  divided  this  plug  into  seven  imaginary  pieces, 
and  said  he  would  limit  himself  to  one  a  day ;  that  when 
it  was  all  gone  he  would  dispose  of  his  pipe,  and  he 
forthwith  tried  to  make  a  dicker  for  the  latter  with 
Joe,  in  advance.  But  Joe,  supposing  him  to  be  in 
earnest,  generously  said  he  didn't  "want  buy  a  pipe 
out  of  a  man,  and  he  go  without  a  pipe"  and  so  the 
dicker  ended.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  Captain's  seven 
days'  rations  lasted  just  a  day  and  a  half ;  but  it  is  due 
to  his  foresight  and  prudence  to  say  that  he  had  pre- 
viously learned  from  the  guides  that  they  had  more 
tobacco  than  they  would  need,  and  Joe  had  said,  "When 
we  get  short,  we  11  divide  the  balance." 

Our  vicinity  to  Musquacook,  the  land  of  the  birch, 
had  naturally  led  us  to  inquire  about  the  uses  of  birch, 
and  especially  of  the  bark  of  that  tree;  and  among 
other  things,  Silas  said  he  had  heard  of  Indians  boiling 
green  corn  in  the  ashes  in  a  birch-bark  vessel,  and  Joe 
said  he  had  seen  water  boiled  in  that  way.  As  the 


BIECH   BAEK  AND   ITS   USES.  161 

day  was  cold  and  raw.  Sartor  and  the  writer  decided 
to  stay  in  camp,  and  to  try  experiments.  After  having 
replenished  the  fire,  we  cut  several  pieces  of  bark  from 
some  neighboring  white-birches,  and  each  made  a  small 
"bucket,"  by  overlapping  the  corners  and  pinning  the 
folds  to  the  ends  of  the  vessel  with  a  small  bit  of  a 
twig.  The  buckets,  filled  with  water,  were  then  placed 
upon  a  bed  of  glowing  coals,  and  we  awaited  the  result 
with  much  incredulity  as  to  our  success.  We  first  used 
rather  thick  bark,  and  when  exposed  to  the  flames  it 
burnt  on  the  outside  and  down  to  the  water's  edge.  The 
principal  difficulty  with  any  bark,  thick  or  thin,  aside 
from  cracking  "  eyes,"  was  that  the  holes  through  which 
the  fastenings  or  pins  were  put  leaked,  and  when  the 
water-line  got  below  them,  the  bark  burnt,  and  then  a 
collapse  was  imminent.  This  actually  happened,  in  part 
at  least,  to  our  first  buckets,  but  not  until  the  water  in 
them  had  become  hot  enough  to  scald  our  fingers. 

We  now  took  a  piece  of  very  thin  and  pliable  bark, 
and  made  a  bucket  six  inches  long,  four  inches  wide, 
and  four  inches  high,  and  poured  into  it  nearly  three 
pints  of  water.  A  bed  of  fresh  glowing  coals  was  raked 
together,  the  bucket  set  on  them,  and  then  hot  coals 
and  fire-brands  were  put  around  and  near  it.  This 
bucket  was  a  success  in  every  particular,  and  the  writer 
has  preserved  to  this  day  the  bark  which  formed  it. 
Apart  from  having  a  few  black  scars,  it  is  as  good  as 
ever.  When  the  water  began  to  simmer,  we  put  into 
it  an  egg.  As  our  incredulity  was  still  great,  we  left 

the  egg  in  ten  minutes.     It  would  have  done  credit  to 

11 


162  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

an  Easter  festival.  Then  we  tried  another  for  five 
minutes,  and  it  was  very  well  timed.  If  the  water  had 
then  boiled  as  it  did  later,  three  and  a  half  minutes 
would  have  been,  beyond  doubt,  long  enough.  Next  a 
small  potato  was  put  in,  and  in  twenty  minutes  it  was 
thoroughly  boiled.  Finally,  a  handful  of  pearled  barley 
was  tried,  and  in  thirty  minutes  it  too  was  cooked. 
There  was  left  in  the  bucket  one  pint  and  a  quarter  of 
water.  'The  fact,  then,  is  established,  that  for  iron  pots 
and  pails  birch  bark  may  be  used  as  a  substitute,  and 
gentlemen  campers  who  lose  their  "  kits  "  in  the  rapids, 
if  they  are  fortunate  enough  to  save  the  potatoes,  need 
not  despair  of  having  these  boiled  for  their  next  meaL 

Of  the  various  uses  to  which  birch  bark  may  be  put 
in  the  woods,  the  first  to  suggest  itself,  probably,  is 
that  for  canoes.  Next  in  importance  is  its  use  for 
kindling  fires.  It  is  also,  but  less  frequently,  used  to 
make  wigwams  or  "  shelters,"  canisters  for  molasses, 
buckets,  dippers,  candlesticks,  torches,  and,  again,  as  a 
substitute  for  wrapping-paper,  or  to  put  under  small 
game  when  being  skinned  or  cut  up ;  and  lastly,  as  we 
have  already  seen,  from  it  are  made  "  moose-horns/' 

Should  the  human  race  ever  come  to  a  "  wooden 
age,"  and  the  iron  in  our  axe  and  knife  be  replaced  by 
birch,  for  example,  we  shall  see  the  Indian  coursing 
down  streams  in  his  birch  canoe,  or  impelling  it  over 
lakes  with  his  birchen  paddle ;  "  calling "  his  moose 
with  a  birch-bark  horn,  shooting  him  with  a  birchen 
arrow,  skinning  him  with  a  birchen  knife,  cutting  birch 
logs  with  a  birchen  axe,  kindling  his  fire  with  birch 


A  BIRCHEN  AGE.  163 

bark,  boiling  his  birch  partridge  in  a  birch-bark  pail, 
eating  him  from  a  birch-bark  plate  with  a  birchen  fork, 
drinking  his  birch-twig  tea  from  a  birch-bark  cup, 
wiping  his  mouth  with  a  birch-bark  napkin,  ornament 
ing  his  squaw's  dress  with  birch-bark  silhouettes,  bring- 
ing up  his  pappooses  with  a  birchen  switch,  and,  finally, 
going  to  bed  in  a  birch-bark  wigwam  by  the  light  of 
a  birch-bark  torch.  In  fact,  his  whole  life  will  be 
birchen,  from  being  rocked  in  a  birchen  cradle  to  being 
buried  in  a  birch  forest. 

A  few  desultory  snow-squalls  during  the  day  were 
followed  at  night  by  a  clear  sky  and  a  crisp,  cold 
atmosphere.  The  barometer  was  rising,  and  with  it 
our  spirits  at  the  thought  of  leaving  this  dismal  camp. 
Two  flocks  of  geese  flew  over  us  at  evening,  which  Joe 
declared  to  be  a  sign  of  coming  cold.  This  tallied 
also  with  the  saying  of  an  old  Indian  hunter,  that  it 
was  "  time  to  quit  hunt ;  de  wild  goose,  he  come." 


CHAPTER  XL 

ON  TO  MUSQUACOOK.  —  MINK.  —  MUD  LAKE.  —  THE  GUIDES  LEAVE 
CAMP  IN  QUEST  OF  FOOD.  —  SPECTRAL  LIGHT.  —  APPREHEN- 
SIONS. —  RETURN  OF  THE  GUIDES.  —  Low  WATER.  —  SHOEING 
THE  CANOES.  —  SNOW.  —  INSUBORDINATION.  —  BLACK  CAT. 


next  morning  the  mercury  was  at  20°,  and 
almost  the  entire  surface  of  the  brook  was  cov- 
ered with  a  film  of  ice,  which  quickly  melted,  how- 
ever, under  the  influence  of  the  sun's  rays.  Cold  nights 
were  not  welcome  to  us  now,  for  we  needed  full 
streams  to  carry  us  out  of  these  remote  places,  and 
the  frost,  as  Silas  expressed  it,  "cramped"  the  water 
too  much. 

We  broke  camp  early,  and  struck  out  for  Musqua- 
cook.  The  writer  went  ahead  of  the  other  members 
of  the  party,  and,  having  reached  the  lake  and  laid 
down  his  pack  and  gun  at  the  side  of  the  carry,  was 
standing  quietly  on  the  shore,  when  a  little  mink 
(Putorius  vison)  ran  along  the  water's  edge  and  ap- 
proached him.  The  little  fellow  did  not  know  what 
to  make  of  the  intruder,  and  stood  repeatedly  on  his 
hind  legs  and  sniffed  the  air  with  his  little  pointed 
nose,  trying  to  make  out  what  that  great  creature 
could  be.  Then  he  popped  under  a  log,  and,  coming 


MUD   LAKE.  165 

out  at  its  farther  end,  began  to  investigate  the  pack. 
Several  times  he  made  two  little  hops,  or  spring-like 
movements  of  the  fore  legs,  from  side  to  side,  while 
the  hind  legs  remained  fixed  in  their  place.  His  inves- 
tigations seemed  to  be  satisfactory,  for  he  soon  darted 
off  and  did  not  reappear. 

We  pitched  our  tents  on  a  little  sandy  point  on  the 
west  shore  of  Fourth  Lake,  near  where  the  line  between 
Penobscot  and  Aroostook  Counties  was  supposed  to  run ; 
but  diligent  search  on  several  occasions  failed  to  find  the 
line.  That  night  we  saw  a  brilliant  display  of  Aurora 


NORTHERN  LIGHTS   ON  MUSQUACOOK. 

Borealis.  At  this  place  the  guides  made  a  kitcTii'pldk 
wa'gn,  which  consists  of  a  frame  of  two  upright  crotched 
posts,  one  on  each  side  of  the  fire-place,  with  a  horizon- 
tal pole  laid  over  them.  From  the  cross-pole  depend  two 
or  more  twisted  withes,  each  ending  in  a  crook,  on  which 
are  hung  kettle  and  pail  for  culinary  purposes. 

The  next  day,  Sartor,  Joe,  and  the  writer  visited  Fifth, 
or  Mud  Lake,  which  was  just  above  us.     We  picked  some 


166  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

cranberries  from  a  bog  on  its  east  side,  and  saw  two 
otters  and  gave  chase.  They  were  too  quick  for  us,  how- 
ever, and,  after  swimming  under  water  a  long  distance, 
would  rise  to  the  surface  for  an  instant  to  take  breath, 
and  go  down  again  with  the  rapidity  of  a  loon.  They 
finally  reached  shore,  and  ran  up  into  the  woods  and  out 
of  sight.  About  half  of  this  lake  was  so  shallow  that 
we  could  with  difficulty  paddle  through  it.  There  were 
several  beaver-houses  around  it,  and  on  the  mud  beneath 
us  we  could  frequently  see  the  marks  made  by  the  bea- 
vers' tails,  where  their  owners  had  passed  along. 

The  next  morning  Joe  and  Silas,  with  enough  bread 
in  their  pockets  for  one  meal,  took  Joe's  canoe,  and  left 
for  Depot  Farm  on  the  Allagash,  twenty  miles  away,  in 
quest  of  food.  They  knew  there  was  a  road  which  led 
to  the  farm  from  the  foot  of  the  Musquacook  chain  of 
lakes,  but  what  kind  of  a  road  it  was,  whether  of  the 
Mud  Pond  Carry  order  or  otherwise,  and  what  obstacles 
they  should  encounter  before  reaching  it,  were  matters 
of  which  they  were  profoundly  ignorant.  They  also  took 
with  them  the  Captain's  revolver,  and  two  traps  to  set 
for  beaver  on  the  way.  We  bade  them  God  speed,  and 
after  their  departure  amused  ourselves  as  best  we  could. 
Although  we  had  a  generous  wood-pile,  we  did  not  care 
to  draw  on  it  too  extravagantly,  and  killed  time  by 
cutting  more  firewood  and  bringing  it  into  camp.  We 
estimated  that,  with  no  mishap,  the  guides  should  be 
back  on  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day  ;  and  in  order 
to  satisfy  ourselves  of  our  bodily  welfare  in  case  they 
should  be  delayed  beyond  that  time,  we  took  an  inven- 


SPECTRAL   LIGHT.  167 

tory  of  our  provisions,  which  we  found  to  consist  of  the 
following  articles,  to  wit :  a  pint  and  a  half  of  pearled 
barley,  two  eggs,  two  cans  of  tomatoes,  two  small  cans 
of  soup-powders,  a  handful  of  beans,  a  piece  of  bacon 
little  larger  than  one's  fist,  four  slices  of  pork,  a  pound 
of  dried  peaches,  a  pound  of  canned  beef,  and  a  suspicion 
of  tea,  coffee,  and  sugar.  Priceless  treasures  these  were 
indeed,  and  carefully  we  hoarded  them. 

The  first  day  passed  away  pleasantly  enough,  consider- 
ing our  enforced  confinement.  That  night,  as  we  looked 
up  the  lake,  on  the  opposite  shore  there  gleamed  a  bright 
light  for  a  few  moments,  like  the  flame  of  a  candle.  It 
twinkled  in  the  dark  just  above  the  water's  edge,  and,  as 
we  watched  it  in  silence  and  wonderment,  it  went  out. 
The  guides,  on  the  day  when  they  had  first  visited  this 
lake,  had  reported  a  fire  among  the  trees  in  that  very 
place ;  and  although  at  the  time  of  our  arrival  it  had 
apparently  gone  out,  our  weird  and  phantom  light  was 
doubtless  caused  by  the  blazing  up  of  some  thitherto 
dormant  ember. 

-Morning  came  and  with  it  more  leaden  skies  and  raw 
winds.  By  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  however,  the 
clouds  had  entirely  disappeared,  and  the  wind  went 
round  into  the  northwest.  It  was  growing  bitterly  cold, 
and,  aside  from  our  own  prospects  for  the  night,  we  began 
to  speculate  upon  those  of  the  guides,  and  upon  their 
whereabouts.  Anxiously  we  awaited  their  return.  At 
times  we  thought  we  heard  them  shout  or  whistle,  and 
again  and  again  did  we  go  down  to  the  shore,  and  look 
towards  the  outlet  of  the  pond.  Hour  after  hour  went 


168  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

by,  and  they  did  not  come.  What  could  have  hap- 
pened to  them !  What  if  they  should  not  return  the 
next  morning !  Something  must  be  done.  It  would  take 
us  at  least  three  days  to  reach  the  Allagash  settlements, 
if  not  four,  and  our  food,  even  with  the  greatest  economy, 
would  barely  last  so  long.  It  really  was  not  more  than 
enough  to  last  two  hungry  men  two  days.  Leave  we 
must  the  next  day,  at  all  hazards.  With  this  determina- 
tion we  ate  the  two  remaining  eggs  and  a  clipper  of  soup 
made  from  some  of  the  soup-powder,  and  went  to  bed. 
The  cold  was  intense,  and  we  were  glad  to  appropriate, 
for  additional  covering,  the  blankets  left  behind  by  the 
guides. 

Morning  brought  no  solution  of  our  difficulties ;  so 
with  apprehensive  minds  we  took  down  one  of  the  tents, 
gathered  our  personal  effects  together,  and  with  blankets, 
axe,  a  few  necessary  dishes,  and  our  scant  store  of  food, 
loaded  our  canoe,  and  at  ten  o'clock  paddled  away  to- 
wards the  outlet.  We  had  just  reached  that  point  when 
to  our  great  relief  the  guides  appeared.  The  writer  says 
relief,  for  although  it  was  a  bitter  disappointment  to  have 
to  return  to  the  least  attractive  camp-ground  we  had  had 
since  we  left  home,  we  nevertheless  felt  much  satisfaction 
at  having  our  party  once  more  together,  —  a  feeling  that 
was  greatly  increased  afterwards  when  Sartor  and  the 
writer  realized  more  fully  what  we  should  have  had  to 
undergo  had  we  continued  on  our  way  alone.  The  guides 
reported  the  water  very  low,  said  they  had  had  to  carry 
their  empty  canoe  up  the  stream  between  Second  and 
Third,  and  Third  and  Fourth  Lakes,  and  that  we  could  n't 


EXCURSION   OF  THE   GUIDES.  169 

possibly  get  down  to  the  Allagash  without  "  shoeing " 
the  canoes.  They  complained  that  they  were  wet  and 
almost  frozen,  and  urged  us  to  return  to  camp,  and  not 
to  think  of  going  on  without  them.  So  turn  about  we 
did,  and  in  the  face  of  a  cold  stiff  breeze  from  the  south- 
east paddled  slowly  and  reluctantly  back.  Silas  had 
bought  at  Depot  Farm  three  pecks  of  potatoes,  twenty 
pounds  of  flour,  and  some  saleratus,  half  of  which  he  had 
with  him,  and  the  other  half  he  had  left  in  a  hunter's 
camp  at  the  foot  of  Second  Lake ;  so,  after  having  rein- 
stated ourselves  in  the  old  spot,  the  first  thing  we  did 
was  to  have  what  is  vulgarly  called  a  "square  meal," 
which  in  this  instance  consisted  of  corn-beef  hash  and 
bread  ad  libitum,  and  0  how  good  it  was ! 

The  guides  had  reached  the  Depot  Farm  the  same  day 
they  had  left  us,  and  had  started  out  on  their  return  the 
next  morning  early ;  but  after  having  gone  some  distance 
they  discovered  that  Joe  had  left  his  axe  five  miles 
behind  him,  and  he  had  to  go  back  for  it.  They  also 
said  they  had  shot  at  and  wounded  a  caribou  with  the 
Captain's  revolver,  but  whether  subsequently  chasing 
the  caribou  constituted  going  back  for  the  axe,  or  not, 
the  writer  has  never  been  able  to  satisfy  himself.  At 
any  rate  they  had  spent  the  night  in  the  aforesaid  hunt- 
er's cabin,  where  they  breakfasted  the  next  morning  on 
saleratus  bread,  baked  in  the  ashes,  and  potatoes  with- 
out salt. 

The  work  of  the  day  now  was  to  shoe  the  canoes. 
The  first  step  was  to  find  several  cedar  trees  whose 
trunks  were  straight  and  free  from  branches  for  twelve 


170  WOODS  AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

feet  from  the  ground.  Then  the  trees  were  felled  and 
their  trunks  divided  into  strips  nearly  eleven  feet  long, 
three  or  four  inches  wide,  and  an  inch  or  more  thick. 
These  strips  were  neatly  squared,  or  trimmed,  with  axe 
and  "  crooked  knife/'  and  then  split  into  pieces  a  third 
of  an  inch  thick,  ten  feet  six  inches  long,  and  tapering 
from  three  inches  wide  at  one  end  to  an  inch  and  a  half 
at  the  other. 

The  "  crooked  knife "  is  a  very  important  and  often 
very  serviceable  part  of  a  hunter's  outfit  in  the  Maine 
woods.  Its  blade  is  three  or  four  inches  long,  straight, 
or  slightly  curved  at  the  end,  narrow  and  thin,  while  the 
handle  runs  straight  out  from  it  to  the  extent  of  the 
width  of  a  person's  hand,  and  then  turns  upward  at  a 
right  angle  in  the  plane  of  the  blade  and  towards  its 
blunt  edge  or  back.  The  operator  holds  the  knife,  edge 
towards  him,  his  thumb  resting  flat  against  the  projection 
of  the  handle  along  its  entire  length.  In  cutting  he 
draws  the  knife  towards  him. 

With  our  two  tools,  knife  and  axe,  the  work  went 
slowly  on,  especially  as  only  two  of  the  party  could  work 
at  a  time.  Fortunately  cedar  is  a  very  easy  wood  to 
split,  and  very  few  of  the  strips  were  spoiled  in  the 
process.  By  night  the  pieces,  fifty  in  number,  were  all 
cut,  and  half  a  day's  work  remained,  Joe  stating  that  by 
" to-morrow  evening,  proba'bly,  we'll  get  a  little  down 
further."  During  the  night  it  rained  hard  for  a  few 
hours,  much  to  our  satisfaction.  Four  inches  more  of 
water  in  the  streams  would  carry  us  comfortably  to  the 
Allagash. 


SHOEING  THE   CANOES.  171 

In  the  morning  work  was  resumed  by  eight  willing 
hands,  for  now  the  hunting-knives  and  larger  pocket- 
knives  in  the  party  were  available.  The  splits  were  all 
marked  off  with  a  lead  pencil  into  lengths  equal  to  the 
respective  distances  between  the  several  thwarts  of  the 
canoes.  Opposite  these  marks  diagonal  slits  were  made, 
two  inches  wide,  which  entered  the  middle  of  each  edge, 
and  came  out,  nearly  together,  on  the  flat  side  of  the  split. 
Where  the  splits  were  narrow,  these  slits,  instead  of  being 
diagonal,  could  without  danger  of  breakage  pass  directly 
through  them,  from  edge  to  edge. 

The  next  step  in  the  process  was  to  string  the  splits 
together.  Long  ribbon-like  pieces  of  the  inner  bark  of 
the  cedar,  nearly  two  inches  wide,  were  already  at  hand. 
The  slits  were  forced  open  with  wooden  wedges,  and  the 
ribbons  inserted  and  drawn  through  them  successively 
until  twelve  or  thirteen  splits  were  side  by  side,  and  the 
necessary  width  had  been  attained.  The  ribbons  project- 
ed two  feet  or  more  from  the  sides  of  the  "  shoes,"  which 
were  now  declared  ready  to  be  put  on.  Each  canoe  has 
two  shoes,  and,  it  should  be  added,  the  wide  ends  of  the 
latter,  where  they  overlap,  have  their  surfaces  bevelled 
and  counter-bevelled,  that  operation  having  been  accom- 
plished in  the  early  stages  of  the  process.  The  shoes  are 
now  laid  on  the  canoes,  the  bow  shoe  of  course  lapping 
over  the  stern  shoe,  and  the  ends  of  the  ribbons  are  split, 
carried  up  the  sides,  and  tied  securely  each  to  its  corre- 
sponding thwart.  The  narrow  ends  of  the  splits  are 
notched  instead  of  being  slit,  and  tied  together  with  cord 
or  cedar  withe,  which  is  in  turn  carried  over  the  bow  and 


172  WOODS  AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

stern  respectively,  and  there  fastened.  The  bottom  of 
the  craft  is  now  smooth,  and  without  projections,  the 
exposed  parts  of  the  ribbons  being  inward  next  to  the 
bark  of  the  canoe,  and  the  voyageur  can  go  pell-mell 
down  a  shallow,  gravelly  stream  without  that  constant 
dread  of  "  scraping,"  which  otherwise  is  so  harrowing  to 
the  mind. 

The  work  on  the  canoes  took  rather  longer  than  we 
had  expected,  and  before  it  was  quite  finished,  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  afternoon,  the  clouds,  which  had  been  gathering 
all  day,  poured  down  upon  us  a  deluge  of  snow  that  con- 
tinued all  night.  In  the  morning  the  snow  was  ten 
inches  deep,  and  with  rain  and  sleet  was  still  falling  at 
short  intervals.  Nevertheless,  go  we  must.  Tea  and 
coffee  would  give  out  in  another  day ;  our  last  potatoes 
and  flour  we  had  had  for  breakfast,  and  only  half  a  mess 
of  beans,  a  can  of  tomatoes,  a  little  soup-powder,  and 
some  dried  peaches  remained. 

The  rain  and  snow  had  done  one  good  thing  for  us, 
and  that  was  to  raise  the  level  of  the  lake  some  three 
inches.  We  accordingly  found  the  stream  below  it  almost 
uniformly  high  enough  to  float  our  loaded  canoes  com- 
fortably. Now  and  then,  seeing  a  gravel-bar  ahead  of  us, 
by  vigorous  pushing  we  got  under  good  headway  and  slid 
in  triumph  over  it.  Some  little  wading  was  necessary, 
and  we  had  to  cut  out  a  few  obstructions,  but  on  the 
whole  we  made  good  progress.  At  the  head  of  Third 
Lake  we  found  a  beaver,  caught  in  one  of  the  traps  which 
Joe  had  reset  on  the  way  back  from  Depot  Farm.  This 
was  a  godsend  to  us,  as  afterwards  appeared. 


INSUBOKDINATIOX.  173 

At  half -past  twelve  o'clock  we  reached  the  foot  of 
Second  Lake,  and  lunched  in  the  little  log  camp  where 
the  guides  had  recently  passed  a  night.  The  potatoes 
and  flour  left  there  were  found  intact,  and  a  fresh  loaf 
of  bread  was  soon  baking  before  a  hot  fire,  in  front  of 
which  we  all  warmed  our  cold  limbs.  It  was  here  that 
occurred  the  only  trouble  we  had  with  either  of  the 
guides,  insubordination  as  it  were,  which  however  soon 
subsided.  Sartor  and  the  writer  had  for  many  days 
openly  deplored  our  enforced  confinement  in  the  woods 


HUNTER'S  CABIN. 


during  the  abominable  weather  we  had  been  having,  and 
we  were  also  anxious  to  reach  home  for  business  reasons. 
When,  therefore,  at  one  o'clock,  Joe  said,  "  Well,  I  guess 
we  '11  stop  here  to-night,"  we  pleasantly,  but  with  firm- 
ness, declined  to  do  so.  This  caused  the  first  exhibition 
of  temper  on  Joe's  part  that  we  had  seen,  and  after  lunch, 
when  he  went  out  to  pitch  his  canoe,  some  unofficial  par- 
leys were  held  through  Silas,  a  self-appointed  mediator, 
the  outcome  of  which  was  that  he  and  the  writer  left  at 
once  for  the  foot  of  First  Lake  and  were  shortly  followed 
by  the  others.  No  reference  was  afterward  made  to  this 


174  WOODS  AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

little  episode,  and  Joe's  general  affability  and  readiness  to 
please  made  us  forget  a  momentary  outburst  of  feeling  on 
his  part,  which  he  himself  doubtless  regretted. 

Near  the  foot  of  First  Lake  our  attention  was  drawn 
to  the  shore,  on  which  something  was  jumping  about  in 
the  snow.  On  approaching  nearer,  we  saw  a  rabbit  hop 
through  an  open  space  for  some  distance  in  a  straight 
course,  and  then  hop  off  at  right  angles  into  the  bushes. 
In  a  moment  a  "  black-cat,"  or  fisher  (Mustela  Canadensis), 
came  hopping  along  too,  in  the  rabbit's  tracks,  and  seemed 
to  follow  the  trail  with  the  greatest  ease.  We  had  not 
long  to  wait  before  Bunny  came  out  again  where  he  had 
first  appeared,  and  went  his  usual  round  leisurely,  seeming 
little  disturbed  by  the  fact  that  his  pursuer  wanted  him 
for  supper.  Then  again  came  the  "  black-cat,"  his  long 
bushy  tail  dragging  after  him  in  the  snow.  We  had  now 
floated  so  near  that  he  scented  us  and  scampered  away, 
and  the  rabbit,  no  doubt,  owed  his  preservation,  for  that 
day  at  least,  to  our  presence.  The  fisher,  except  in  color, 
looks  at  a  distance  not  unlike  a  fox,  and  besides  rabbits 
he  eats  fish,  as  his  name  implies.  Silas  said  the  fishers 
built  their  nests  high  up  in  the  trunks  of  hollow  trees. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

AMONG  THE  BOULDERS.  —  SPIRIT  OF  THE  KAPIDS.  —  CAMPING 
AFTER  DARK.  —  THE  ALLAGASH.  —  TWELVE  MILES  OR  No  SUP- 
PER. —  FOREST  FIRES.  —  MOIRS.  —  ALLAGASH  FALLS.  —  TOW- 
BOATS.  —  ST.  JOHN  EIVER.  —  SIGHTS  ALONG  THE  WAY.  — 
EETROSPECT. 

"YTTHEN  we  reached  the  dam  at  the  foot  of  First  Lake, 
nothing  was  said  by  either  of  the  guides  about 
camping,  and,  as  there  seemed  to  be  no  good  spot  for  that 
purpose  near  by,  we  transferred  our  canoes  to  the  other 
side  and  began  to  go  down  the  stream.  In  a  very  few 
moments  we  were  in  the  midst  of  huge  boulders,  among 
which  in  many  places  it  was  impossible  to  find  a  channel, 
and  an  attempt  to  wade  was  generally  followed  by  a 
plunge  from  some  slippery  rock  up  to  our  boot-tops  in 
deep  water,  or  by  the  wrenching  of  an  ankle  as  the  foot 
got  jammed  into  some  narrow  crevice  of  the  rocks.  And 
now  we  saw  the  utility  of  canoe-shoes,  for  when  our  fur- 
ther passage  was  blocked  by  some  low,  flat-topped  boulder, 
we  simply  pushed  the  canoe  up  on  the  latter,  and  then 
dragged  it  along  and  over  into  the  water  again.  Mean- 
time daylight  was  slowly  fading  away,  and  the  forest  on 
both  sides  of  the  narrow  stream  shut  out  much  of  the 
little  light  that  still  remained.  The  waters  boiled  around 


176  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

us,  and  as  we  paused  now  and  then  in  the  midst  of  some 
difficult  "  pitch/'  out  of  the  greater  din  and  roar  came  a 
solemn  monotone,  "  Swosh,  swosh',  sosh,  sosh,  —  swosh', 
sosh,  sosh',  sosh, —  swosh',  sosh."  It  was  the  Spirit  of 
the  rapids  chanting  ceaselessly  her  soft  refrain,  whose 
measured  vibrations  stole  gently  into  our  inner  natures 
and  held  them  spellbound. 

Lulled  by  these  pleasant  fancies  into  forgetfulness  of 
the  outer  world,  we  were  rudely  awakened  to  the  fact  that 
night  was  upon  us.  Thus  far  along  the  stream  there  had 
been  no  possibility  of  camping.  The  banks  had  been  steep 
and  densely  wooded.  Fortunately  we  had  now  reached  an 
old  "  landing,"  on  the  top  of  which  was  an  even  surface, 
and  to  it,  at  a  quarter  to  six  o'clock,  through  the  snow  and 
bushes,  we  dragged  our  heavy  loads.  If  any  one  thinks 
there  is  pleasure  in  pitching  camp  after  dark  in  a  strange 
spot,  with  a  foot  of  snow  on  the  ground,  just  let  him  try 
it.  In  the  first  place  the  snow  had  to  be  —  yes,  kicked 
away  from  the  site  chosen  for  the  tent.  Then  came  the 
search  for  tent-poles  and  pins,  and  for  fire-wood,  all  of 
which  had  to  be  gathered  by  means  more  of  feeling  than 
of  seeing.  No  boughs  could  be  had,  and  the  thought  of 
lying  on  such  a  wet  hard  place  as  we  had  been  compelled 
to  choose  was  anything  but  pleasant.  There  was  not, 
however,  a  word  of  complaint  heard  from  any  one,  and 
when  the  fire  had  once  begun  to  blaze  and  crackle,  and 
the  rubber  blankets  had  covered  up  the  dampness,  and  our 
beds  were  spread  out,  comfort  prevailed  again. 

It  was  late  the  next  morning  when  we  continued  on 
our  way  down  stream,  owing  to  a  delay  of  an  hour  in 


DOWN  THE   MUSQUACOOK.  177 

mending  a  strip  in  one  of  the  canoe-shoes.  Silas's  rubber 
boots  had  come  to  grief,  too.  While  crossing  the  carry  to 
Musquacook  he  had  stepped  upon  a  stub,  and  made  a  hole 
in  one  boot,  which  he  had  subsequently  mended  by  filling 
with  resin.  The  writer  had  in  the  same  way  repaired 
a  tear  in  one  of  his  boots,  but  it  remained  water-tight, 
while  Silas's  did  not.  The  latter' s  were  accordingly  laid 
aside,  and  Silas,  drawing  from  one  of  the  bags  his  leather 
"  driving  "  boots,  which  had  become  dry  and  hard,  threw 
them  into  the  water  for  a  moment  to  "  grease  "  them,  as 
he  said,  before  putting  them  on. 

Sartor  and  the  writer,  as  usual,  walked  ahead  of  the 
canoes,  wading  from  one  side  of  the  stream  to  the  other, 
according  as  either  shore  offered  the  better  footing.  The 
stream  was  rapid,  as  a  rule,  but  grew  more  navigable  as 
we  proceeded,  and  in  places  was  even  narrow  and  deep. 
At  one  such  spot  we  built  a  fire  just  before  noon,  and 
sat  silent  spectators  of  the  still  life  around  us,  musing 
until  the  canoes  should  come.  A  spreading  cedar  covered 
us  with  its  branches,  from  which,  under  the  influence  of 
the  ascending  heat,  water  dripped  continuously,  accom- 
panied by  an  occasional  dab  of  melting  snow.  Opposite 
us,  over  the  water's  edge,  bobbed  nervously  the  leaf- 
less stem  of  a  slender  bush,  whose  half-drowned  offshoot 
quivered  unceasingly  in  the  current  of  the  brook.  Now 
and  then  there  would  sail  out  mysteriously,  from  behind 
a  root  or  alder-bough  in  the  dead-water,  a  phantom-like 
accumulation  of  foam  from  the  rapids  above,  looking 
like  a  fairy  iceberg,  and  impelled,  as  it  were,  by  some 

breath  of  air  too  light  to  be  perceived.     Then,  in  contrast, 

12 


178  WOODS  AKD  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

came  Joe  poling  silently  along,  clad  in  newly-made  zou- 
ave costume.  One  leg  of  his  trousers  had  become  badly 
tattered  below  the  knee,  and,  the  other  being  little  bet- 
ter, he  had  cut  both  off  at  the  knee,  and  now  wore 
them  outside  his  blue  overalls,  with  his  gray  socks  drawn 
up  over  the  bottom  of  the  latter.  Finally  came  Silas, 
perched  upon  the  top  of  his  load,  in  mid-canoe,  bal- 
anced by  his  setting-pole,  and  looking  like  a  tight-rope 
walker. 

Our  course  down  Musquacook  was  without  further 
interest.  Destructive  fires  had  run  through  the  forest  for 
miles  on  each  side,  and  had  left  a  picture  of  desolation. 
We  camped  once  more  on  the  bank  of  the  stream,  in  an 
oasis  in  the  blackened  waste,  and  reached  the  Allagash 
the  next  day  at  noon.  Here  we  had  for  lunch  the  tail 
of  our  last  beaver,  the  last  can  of  tomatoes,  and  the  re- 
mainder of  the  soup-powder.  Not  a  mouthful  of  food 
was  left,  and  the  alternative  now  before  us  was  a  twelve- 
mile  paddle  or  —  no  supper. 

The  forests  along  the  Allagash  were  no  more  attractive 
than  those  of  the  Musquacook.  Fire  had  run  through 
them  also,  and  on  this  bleak  October  day  the  charred 
trunks  were  in  mournful  contrast  with  their  white  back- 
ground of  snow.  All  of  this  ruin,  which  involved  proba- 
bly millions  of  dollars,  is  supposed  to  have  originated  from 
the  carelessness  of  two  hunters  during  the  preceding  sum- 
mer, who  are  said  to  have  left  their  camp-fire  burning 
behind  them.  Too  much  cannot  be  said  about  the  im- 
portance of  putting  out  fires  when  a  camp  is  left.  The 
writer  has  adverted  to  this  subject  in  print  elsewhere,  but 


MOIE'S.  179 

on  account  of  its  importance  he  may  be  pardoned  for  re- 
introducing  it  here.  A  live  ember  left  in  the  turf  at  the 
side  of  one's  fireplace  in  the  woods  may  be  the  germ  of  a 
terrible  conflagration,  like  the  one  just  referred  to,  when 
settlers  on  the  Allagash  had  their  household  effects  out 
on  the  river-bank  for  a  week,  ready  to  leave  their  threat- 
ened habitations  at  a  moment's  notice.  It  behooves  all 
to  take  the  greatest  possible  care  to  prevent  such  a  catas- 
trophe. Five  minutes  spent  by  willing  hands  can  with 
little  labor  make  sure  of  safety  in  this  respect. 

We  needed  no  urging  to  do  our  best  that  afternoon, 
but  the  weary  miles  went  all  too  slowly  by,  and  the  raw 
winds  chilled  us  through  and  through.  At  each  bend  in 
the  river  our  eyes  would  pierce  the  misty,  frozen  atmos- 
phere, seeking  the  welcome  smoke  from  some  settler's 
chimney,  only  to  be  disappointed  again  and  again. 
Finally,  as  the  shades  of  night  began  to  close  about  us, 
we  reached  the  house  of  Finley  McLennan,  on  the  left 
bank  of  the  stream,  and  all  huddled  about  the  glowing 
stove  in  that  farmer's  kitchen.  On  our  making  some 
inquiries  as  to  whether  we  might  sleep  in  his  barn  over 
night,  McLennan  told  us,  with  a  knowing  look,  that  he 
did  n't  keep  "  public  house,"  and  said  we  could  get  "  some- 
thing "  at  Moir's,  a  mile  below,  where  we  could  also  put 
up  for  the  night.  The  Captain  promptly  repelled  the 
insinuation  that  we  had  any  greater  thirst  than  could  be 
quenched  by  a  glass  of  milk ;  and  while  it  was  still  light 
enough  to  see,  we  hurried  on  to  Moir's.  There  we  were 
welcomed  cordially,  and  were  soon  comfortably  housed  in 
a  human  habitation,  —  the  first  time  in  a  month. 


180  WOODS  AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

That  evening  was  spent  in  profitable  conversation. 
Mr.  Moir,  being  an  old  settler  on  the  Allagash,  was  very 
well  informed  about  that  section  of  the  country,  and 
talked  well  and  intelligently.  He  said  that  a  good  many 
"  sporters  "  had  passed  by  during  the  summer,  and  often 
stopped  at  his  place  for  milk  and  eggs.  He  had  a  large 
family  of  children  about  him,  several  of  whom  were  mar- 
ried to  neighboring  farmers,  while  the  youngest  slept 
quietly  in  a  cradle  near  us  as  we  talked,  the  light  from 
a  kerosene  lamp  shining  full  in  the  little  fellow's  face. 
When  bedtime  came  the  old  couple  insisted  upon  giving 
up  to  Sartor  and  the  writer  their  bed,  on  which  the 
favored  guests  stretched  themselves  and  were  soon  fast 
asleep.  But  our  slumbers  did  not  last  long,  for  the  un- 
usual heat  from  the  large  stove,  which  was  replenished 
from  time  to  time  during  the  night  by  the  good  house- 
wife, baby  in  arms  and  pipe  in  mouth,  made  us  restless 
and  wakeful. 

The  next  day  we  ran  down  the  Allagash  and  "  car- 
ried "  past  the  falls,  where  the  river  breaks  over  ragged 
walls  of  clay  slate  and  leaps  madly  into  a  pool  below.  Joe 
thought  the  height  of  the  falls  was  about  seventy  feet, 
and  said  he  had  heard  that  measurement  given  by  others, 
better  informed  than  himself.  Moir  had  given  us  the 
same  estimate,  but  was  somewhat  shaken  in  his  belief  of 
its  correctness,  because  two  men,  who  had  worked  near 
the  falls  for  three  weeks  during  the  preceding  spring,  had 
told  him  their  height  was  at  least  ninety  feet !  We  meas- 
ured the  perpendicular  fall  of  the  water,  first  with  our 
aneroid,  which  made  it,  as  nearly  as  could  be  read,  twenty- 


TOW-BOATS.  181 

five    feet,  and  afterwards  by  means  of   a  string,  which 
made  it  twenty-seven  feet ! 

On  our  way  down  the  river  we  passed  several  flat- 
boats  or  scows,  drawn  by  horses,  and  loaded  with  hay 
and  supplies  for  the  loggers  who  were  to  operate  up 
the  river  during  the  ensuing  winter.  Most  of  the 
carrying-trade  on  the  Allagash  and  St.  John  above  rail- 
road connection,  at  least  for  the  loggers,  is  done  by 
means  of  these  flat-bottomed  boats,  which  seldom  draw, 
even  when  loaded,  more  than  eight  or  ten  inches  of 
water,  and  carry  twelve  and  a  half  tons'  weight,  or  one 
hundred  and  twenty-five  barrels  of  two  hundred  pounds 
each.  The  horses,  which  weigh  from  thirteen  to  fifteen 
hundred  weight,  walk  tandem,  two  to  each  boat,  along 
the  river  bank,  on  tow-paths  where  there  are  any,  and, 
in  the  absence  of  these,  in  the  water,  their  drivers 
in  the  latter  case  often  following  them,  even  up  to  the 
waist.  This  comes  to  be  a  severe  strain  on  the  men, 
as  well  as  on  the  poor  beasts,  when  the  snow  and  slush 
of  an  early  autumn  freeze  about  their  legs.  The  har- 
nesses often  freeze,  too,  and  are  never  removed  from 
the  horses.  The  latter  often  have  to  swim  from  five 
to  seven  rods  through  stretches  of  deep  water.  They 
are  whipped  up  before  they  reach  these  places,  the  tow- 
rope  is  drawn  in,  and  when  the  horses  begin  to  swim, 
the  rope  is  slackened,  and  the  headway  gained  by  the 
boat  enables  them  to  reach  a  footing  before  they  must 
begin  to  pull  again.  The  drivers  at  these  times  stand 
on  the  horses'  backs.  For  these  services  drivers  get 
from  fifteen  to  twenty  dollars  per  month  and  their 


182  WOODS   AND   LAKES   OF   MAINE. 

food,  which  consists  of  tea,  bread,  codfish,  pork,  beans, 
and  dried  apples.  In  former  years  they  were  not  per- 
mitted to  stop  and  build  a  fire  for  meals,  because  that 
took  too  much  time.  They  have  three  meals,  except 
when  on  the  "  drive,"  between  the  first  of  March  and 
the  end  of  the  drive.  Then  they  have  four  meals 
daily, —  at  four  and  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  at 
one  or  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  at  eight  in  the 
evening.  They  put  their  tea  and  molasses  into  the 
same  pot,  and  boil  them  together. 

We  reached  the  junction  of  the  Allagash  and  St.  John 
early  in  the  afternoon,  and  at  "  Nigger  "  Brook  Rapids,  a 
half-mile  below  it,  we  went  ashore  and  "  cast "  our  canoe- 
shoes.  They  had  done  us  excellent  service,  not  only  on 
Musquacook  Stream,  but  on  the  Allagash  as  well,  which 
in  many  places  was  quite  shallow.  The  scenery  from  this 
point,  looking  up  stream,  is  very  fine.  Distant  mountain 
ridges  rise  one  behind  another,  covered  with  a  misty  blue, 
while  above  the  broad  expanse  of  river,  and  between  it  and 
the  background  of  mountains,  hangs  a  strip  of  grass-tufted 
meadow,  out  of  which  reach  upward  a  few  graceful  old 
elms.  A  group  of  mouldy  buildings,  shaded  by  a  clump 
of  mingled  spruce  and  birches,  stands  on  one  side,  and 
here  and  there  scattered  about,  dotting  the  landscape, 
may  be  seen  a  ruined  mill  or  dilapidated  shanty.  The 
tinkle  of  a  distant  cow-bell  draws  the  eye  to  where  a 
group  of  cattle  stand  idly  on  the  river  bank,  gazing  curi- 
ously at  the  approaching  canoes,  or  to  where,  fording  the 
stream,  they  seek  the  narrow  pathway  to  their  muddy 
stable-yard. 


THE    SOCIAL    HOUR. 


SIGHTS  ALONG  THE  WAY.  185 

We  were  now  in  a  region  where  traces  of  man's 
handiwork  appeared  all  about  us.  First  there  were 
log  houses,  then  farms,  with  their  network  of  fences  on 
sloping  hillsides,  then  churches,  and  finally  villages. 
The  log  houses  were  rude  affairs,  mere  shanties,  small 
and  confined,  out  of  which  peered  many  little  faces. 
No  extensive  clearings  seem  to  be  attached  to  these 
homesteads,  and  the  owners  make  their  living  by  cut- 
ting out  shingles  back  in  the  forests,  and  "  hiring  out " 
in  the  summer  to  the  farmers  down  the  river,  and 
to  the  loggers  in  the  winter.  Their  children  seldom 
see  the  inside  of  a  schoolhouse,  and  grow  in  profusion. 
Cases  occur  frequently  on  the  St.  John,  we  were  told, 
of  families  which  contain  between  twenty  and  thirty 
children. 

A  pretty  sight  on  this  river  was  that  of  a  boy, 
about  ten  years  old,  dipping  water  out  of  the  stream 
with  a  tin  bucket  into  a  large  cask.  The  cask  stood 
on  a  wooden  sled,  to  which  were  attached  two  oxen, 
not  more  than  two  or  three  years  old,  and  very  small. 
They  stood  knee-deep  in  the  stream,  waiting  patiently 
while  their  little  driver,  holding  on  to  the  cask  with  his 
left  hand,  bent  his  body  over,  dipped  his  bucket  nearly 
full,  and  swung  it  easily  up  to  the  rim  of  the  cask  and 
poured  its  contents  in.  The  dexterity  and  grace  of  his 
movements  were  quite  marked,  and  he  accomplished  his 
task  with  all  the  ease  of  a  full-grown  man.  As  we  came 
opposite,  he  paused,  and  let  his  arm  and  bucket  hang  by 
his  side.  He  leaned  against  the  cask  and  looked  at  us 
absorbed  in  apparent  admiration,  forgetting,  or  at  least 


186  WOODS   AND  LAKES   OF  MAINE. 

unaware,  that  he  was  quite  as  much  an  object  of  interest 
to  us  as  we  could  be  to  him. 

We  spent  that  night  under  the  hospitable  roof  of 
Martin  Savage,  one  of  the  successful  loggers  and  farm- 
ers of  the  St.  John,  opposite  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Fran- 
cis River.  Mr.  Savage's  hospitable  and  well-appointed 
house  is  always  open  to  gentlemen  tourists,  to  whom  he 
is  wont  to  extend  a  cordial  welcome.  In  fact,  the  peo- 
ple of  this  section  are,  as  a  rule,  all  hospitable,  and  seem 
to  enjoy  quite  well  the  visits  of  strangers  from  the  outer 
world,  and  a  chat  with  them  about  matters  of  general 
interest,  of  which,  in  their  isolation,  they  hear  but  little. 

The  next  day  we  passed  Fort  Kent,  where  stands  an 
old  block-house,  a  memento  of  the  "Aroostook  war,"  and 
before  night  were  safely  lodged  in  one  of  the  hotels  at 
Edmundston,  in  New  Brunswick. 

And  here  ended  our  journey  by  canoe.  Since  leaving 
Morris's,  on  the  Penobscot,  opposite  the  head  of  Moose- 
head  Lake,  we  had  come  one  hundred  and  sixty  miles 
through  the  heart  of  the  wilderness.  The  keen  enjoy- 
ment of  many  hours  had  made  ample  amends  for  the 
few  hardships  we  had  undergone,  while  the  lessons  we 
had  had  of  Nature's  teaching  will  form  a  priceless  treas- 
ure-book, of  which,  when  we  are  far  removed  from  her 
schoolhouse,  we  may  turn  the  leaves  anew,  and  read  again 
and  again  the  story  we  had  conned.  There  we  shall 
find  an  aromatic  whiff  from  some  distant  forest,  or  the 
odor  from  the  burning  birch-log;  we  shall  see  ourselves 
at  evening  grouped  about  the  camp-fire,  listening  to  the 
tales  of  our  Indian  guide;  the  antlered  moose,  with 


RETROSPECT.  187 

lumbering  gait,  will  rise  before  us,  or  we  shall  hear 
the  midnight  wailing  of  the  loon.  On  these  pages, 
too,  we  shall  see  the  old  and  honored  hills  and  moun- 
tains in  their  quiet  dignity,  unchanged  from  yester- 
day, unchanging  to-morrow.  In  their  sombre  mantles, 
which  shift  to  distant  purple,  they  will  remain  unal- 
tered, till  stripped  by  man's  insatiate  greed.  Even  then, 
the  noble  outlines  must  remain.  Above  their  topmost 
peaks  summer  clouds  are  floating,  and  on  their  forest 
slopes  shadows  rest  awhile,  only  to  follow  others  that 
have  gone  before.  The  ever-present  and  ever-changing 
waters  at  their  base  give  out  their  glad  welcome  in 
rippling  smiles,  or  in  silence  show  the  peace  that  lies 
in  their  tranquil  bosom.  The  old  familiar  brook  bub- 
bles out  its  wonted  song  of  yore,  ever  tumbling  onward 
and  disporting  in  wild  glee  among  the  rocks  that  strew 
its  bed,  or,  nestling  in  some  darksome  pool,  gives  back 
the  quiet  image  of  the  mossy  bank.  Near  by,  the  well- 
trod  foot-path  meanders  through  the  silent  wood,  whose 
scraggy  arms  enfold  it,  until,  abruptly  turning,  in  tan- 
gled thickets  it  is  lost  to  view. 


APPENDIX. 


APPENDIX. 


I.     INDIAN  PLACE-NAMES. 

~TN  the  autumn  of  1881,  with  a  view  of  collecting  the  unpublished 
Indian  geographical  names  of  that  part  of  Maine  represented 
on  the  accompanying  map,  and  of  learning  from  the  Indians  them- 
selves the  meanings  of  these  names  and  of  some  others  whose 
signification  was  not  generally  known,  the  writer  visited  the  Indian 
island  at  Oldtown  on  the  Penobscot.  There  he  had  an  interview 
with  John  Pennowit,  then  eighty-seven  years  of  age,  the  oldest 
hunter  among  the  Penobscots,  and  acknowledged  on  all  sides  to  be 
more  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  Maine  woods  than  any  other 
member  of  his  tribe.  This  interview  was  followed  by  a  second  in 
the  next  year,  and  by  others  with  other  Indians  on  different  occa- 
sions, and  the  stock  of  names  gathered  in  this  way  has  been  sup- 
plemented by  short  and  desultory  researches,  on  the  writer's  part, 
in  the  Abnaki  Dictionary  of  Kale,  republished  by  Dr.  John  Pick- 
ering, in  the  "First  Reading  Book  in  the  Micmac  Language,"  by 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Rand,  in  the  publications  of  Dr.  J.  Hammond  Trum- 
bull,  and  in  some  few  other  works  that  relate  to  the  same  subject. 

The  results  of  this  research  are  here  given,  not  because  they  are 
thought  conclusive,  but  because  of  a  wish  to  interest  others  in  the 
same  field,  and  to  gratify  a  curiosity  on  the  subject  among  the  ever- 
increasing  throng  of  visitors  to  the  Maine  forests.  The  names  in 
the  following  list  are  in  most  cases  given  precisely  as  they  were 
taken  down  from  the  mouths  of  the  writer's  informants,  while  in 
a  few  cases  b  and  p,  d  and  t,  gw  and  qu,  have  been  interchanged 


192  APPENDIX. 

for  the  sake  of  preserving  a  more  exact  correspondence  with  the 
forms  given  by  Bale.  That  this  change  is  perfectly  proper  will 
doubtless  be  admitted,  when  one  is  told  that  the  pronunciation  of 
the  Indians  is  very  hard  to  apprehend,  and  that  at  times  one  can- 
not distinguish  their  b  from  p,  their  d  from  t,  or  their  m  from  n. 
In  fact,  they  probably  do  not  perceive  the  difference  themselves. 
Among  the  Penobscots,  too,  the  a  of  Kale  is  often  pronounced 
like  e,  and  vice  versa. 

Inasmuch  as  the  writer  knew  absolutely  nothing  about  Indian 
language  at  the  time  the  greater  number  of  these  names  were  taken 
down,  their  value,  if  they  have  any,  lies  chiefly  in  the  evidence  they 
bear  of  the  little  change  that  has  taken  place  in  this  language,  or 
rather  in  this  dialect  of  it,  during  a  century  and  a  half ;  a  fact  that, 
in  view  of  the  absence  of  any  literature  among  this  people,  may 
well  surprise  us.  While,  too,  the  writer  would  not  detract  from  the 
trustworthiness  or  accuracy  of  the  philological  explanations  sug- 
gested, he  must  at  the  same  time  reserve  the  privilege  of  correcting 
any  errors  in  them  that  further  investigation  may  reveal  to  him. 

The  reader  will  soon  perceive  that  a  large  majority  of  these 
names  contain  a  component  signifying  either  "lake,"  as  begat,  qua- 
sabam,  gwasebem,  gamirk,  gamd-k,  gamo-k,  gdmd-k,  goma,  gama-k, 
gamal-k,  gamoi-k,  and  guamd-k  (often  preceded  by  a  nasal  sound),  — 
"stream,"  as  tegwe-k,  tegoo-k,  ticook,  and  took,  —  "mountain,"  as 
wadjo  and  wodchu,  and  the  inseparable  adene,  —  or  "place,"  ki-k, 
ke-k,  koo-k,  kd-k,  and  kea-g,  —  most  of  which  may  take  the  diminu- 
tive is,  es,  or  sis.  It  will  also  be  noticed  that  nearly  all  such  names 
end  with  a  k  sound,  as  just  written.  This  is  the  locative  particle 
"  at,"  which  the  writer  has  not  translated  in  giving  the  explanations 
of  the  different  place-names,  because  its  force  seems  to  consist 
merely  in  changing  an  indefinite  general  name  to  a  particular  one 
by  localizing  it,  very  much  as  we  should  distinguish  between  "  a 
lake  where  there  are  eagles"  and  "Eagle  Lake."  The  Indians 
never  translate  this  particle. 

The  general  explanations  which  follow  the  Indian  names  are  to 
be  understood,  unless  otherwise  noted,  as  coming  from  Pennowit. 
Francis  Nicholas,  a  noted  hunter,  and  Steven  Stanislaus,  formerly 


INDIAN  PLACE-NAMES.  193 

Lieutenant-Governor  of  the  Penobscots,  are  also  at  times  quoted, 
and  their  initials  follow  the  explanations  derived  from  them  respect- 
ively. The  phraseology  of  the  explanations  is  often  that  of  the 
writer,  read  over  to  and  confirmed  by  his  respective  informants. 
The  Greek  w  as  here  used  is  equivalent  to  w  or  oo ;  a  and  e  have 
the  sound  of  a  in  "say,"  a  that  of  a  in  "what,"  e  that  of  ecu  in 
"seat,"  while  small  n  after  a  vowel  shows  that  the  latter  has  a 
nasal  sound.  The  character  *  is  aspirate. 


Abacotne'tic :  a  pond  at  the  head  of  the  north  branch  of 
the  Kettegwe*wick,  or  West  Branch  of  the  Penobscot  River. 

Abocadng'ticook :  the  north  branch  of  the  Kettegwewick,  or 
West  Branch  of  the  Penobscot,  from  its  junction  with  the  south 
branch  ;  "  stream  between  the  mountains,"  or  "  stream  narrowed 
by  the  mountains."  Cf.  Nesowadnehunk.  We  see  here  the  in- 
separable substantival  adene,  "  mountain,"  and  tegw£-k  or  tegw-k, 
(a  specific)  "  stream."  For  the  reason  for  applying  this  name 
to  the  stream  from  the  forks  up,  see  Kettegwewick. 

Abbahas,  Abahos,  Abahtacook :  a  branch  of  the  Madamiscon- 
tis ;  "  a  stream  that  runs  parallel  with  a  big  river."  (F.  N.) 

Abojedge'wak  :  thoroughfare  between  North  Twin  and  South 
Twin  Lakes.  "  Two  currents  flow,  one  on  each  side  of  an  island 
in  the  thoroughfare."  (S.  S.)  Cf.  Eptchedge'wak. 

Aboijackarm£'gas :  a  branch  of  the  Penobscot,  at  the  foot  of 
Mount  Ktaadn.  It  means  "no  trees,  all  smooth."  From  the 
almost  uniform  absence  of  the  letter  r  in  the  names  collected 
by  the  writer,  it  is  possible  that  the  r  in  this  word  should  more 
properly  be  an  aspirate,  or  h.  Moreover,  an  intelligent  Indian 
once  told  the  writer  that  the  proper  form  was  Aboljach'kame'gek, 
"  bare,  or  bald  place,"  in  which  jack  was  ejaculatory,  and  par- 
took of  the  nature  of  an  oath,  as  if  one  should  say,  "There  is 
the  damned  bare  place."  In  the  latter  form  we  see  the  com- 
ponent kamighe,  "  an  enclosed  place,"  with  the  locative  k.  Pen- 
is 


194  APPENDIX. 

nowit  says  there  was  a  small  point  that  was  burnt  over  and 
left  smooth. 

1  Aboijackarm^gas'sic  :  diminutive  of  the  preceding.  The  mouth 
of  this  stream  is  just  below  that  of  the  last  named,  and  is  a 
small,  open,  grassy  meadow  in  the  midst  of  the  woods,  pretty 
enough  surely  not  to  deserve  "  damning." 

Ahsedakwa'sic  :  Turner  Brook,  on  the  upper  St.  John ;  "  place 
on  a  stream  where  a  stick  or  rod  was  pointing  to  some  branch 
stream,"  i.  e.  as  a  sign  for  one  to  follow  in  that  direction. 

Ai'iagash :  the  principal  branch  of  the  St.  John ;  probably  a 
contraction  of  Allagaskwigam'ook  (q.  v.). 

Allagaskwigam'ook :  Churchill  Lake,  on  the  Allagash ;  "  bark- 
cabin  lake."  On  a  plan  made  in  1795  the  name  is  spelled 
Lacassecomecook.  Another  form  is  Oolagweskwigamicook  (F.  N.). 
Rale  gives  pk(oahan  for  the  bark  used  "  a  cabaner,"  and  waragliti- 
skco,  "  grosses  forces  p'r  bruler,"  but  it  is  not  at  all  unlikely 
that  the  latter  is  the  spruce  bark,  which  is  often  used  for  cabin- 
making.  With  the  dialectic  interchange  of  I  for  r,  the  etymology 
of  the  word  becomes  clear:  waragMskw^  "bark,"  wick,  "cabin," 
and  gami-k)  (a  specific)  "  lake." 

Allah/twkikam6/tksis :  a  pond  near  Soubungy  Mountain ; 
"ground  where  a  good  deal  of  game  has  been  destroyed." 

Ambajee'jus,  =  Allbojeefjus :  a  lake  and  falls  on  the  Penob- 
scot;  so  called,  it  is  said,  from  two  large  round  rocks  in  the 
lake,  one  on  top  of  the  other.  Of.  Abojedge'wak. 

Am'bajemack'omas :  properly  the  name  of  Elbow  Lake  be- 
tween North  Twin  Lake  and  the  dam  below  it,  but  improperly 
applied  to  Gulliver  Pitch,  a  fall  on  the  Penobscot  below  Eipo- 
genus  Carry,  where  a  man  named  Gulliver  was  drowned.  The 
meaning  is  "  little  cross  pond,"  which  more  fully  appears,  if  we 
follow  the  analogy  of  one  form  of  the  name  for  Chamberlain 
Lake  (q.  v.),  and  write  it  Ap'moojenega'mis.  In  these  two  in- 
stances and  in  Parmacheene  (Lake),  —  which  are  the  only  three 


INDIAN  PLACE-^AMES.  195 

Indian  names  in  Maine  known  to  the  writer  in  which  apmojeene 
or  pemetsini  occur  as  components,  —  the  force  of  the  preposition 
appears  to  be  that  the  general  direction,  or  length,  of  the  lake 
lies  across,  or  crosswise  to,  the  usual  course  or  route  of  persons 
that  go  over  it.  Of.  Numtsceenaga'nawis. 

Androscoggin,  Amoscommun :  a  branch  of  the  Kennebec ; 
"somebody  found  something"  (?). 

A'pmoojene'gamook,  or  Baamcheenun'gamook :  Chamberlain 
Lake,  on  the  Allagash ;  "  cross  lake."  It  is  from  the  words 
dpmoojene  or  pemetsinicoi,  "  crosswise,"  and  gami-k,  (a  specific) 
"  lake."  Of.  Am'bajemacJc'omas  and  Numtsceenaga'nawis. 

Aroo'stook,  Aloostook,  Oolastook :  "  beautiful  river  "  (Rand's 
Micmac  Reader).  Cf.  Wallastook. 

Arumsunklmn'gan,     See  Nollommussoeongan. 

Aswaguscawa'dic :  a  branch  of  the  Mattawamkeag.  Anzwazo- 
guscawa'dik,  "  a  place  where,  on  account  of  the  distance,  one 
drags  his  canoe  through  a  stream,  rather  than  carry  it."  Cf. 
Usoogomusoogweddmlc,  "  wading-across  place,  a  ford"  (Rand). 
Cf.,  also,  nederanso)gad(o,  "je  traine  le  canot  dans  le  rapide" 
(Rale). 

At'tean:  a  pond  on  Moose  River;  the  name  of  an  Indian 
family,  and  formerly  of  a  chief. 

A'wanga'nis :  Priestley  Lake,  near  the  Allagash ;  "  lake  or 
water  reached  from  a  river  by  cutting  across  country  up  a  brook, 
and  thence  by  land,  instead  of  going  around  and  up  the  outlet 
of  the  lake." 

Bas'kah^'gan :  a  branch  of  the  Mattawamkeag ;  Pas'kehe'gan, 
"  a  branch  stream  that  turns  right  off  down,  while  Piscataquis 
goes  up  straight"  (F.  N.).  Pennowit  says  it  is  "where  they 
made  a  weir  to  catch  salmon,  eels,  anything." 

Beegwa'took :  Pushaw  Pond,  near  Bangor ;  "  big  bay  place." 
anlagwat,  "  covert,"  or  "  cove." 

Bras'sua :  a  lake  on  Moose  River ;  said  to  mean  "  Frank." 


196  APPENDIX. 

Caucomgo'moc,  Kahkoguamook :  a  lake  near  Chesuncook  on 
the  West  Branch  of  the  Penobscot ;  "  big-gull  lake."  The  word 
comes  from  kadka  (Rale),  "the  big,  white  gull,"  and  gami-k, 
(a  specific)  "lake." 

Chemquasabam'ticook :  stream  and  lake  tributary  to  the  Alla- 
gash  ;  "  stream  of  a  large  lake,"  from  che,  "  great,"  or  "  large," 
pegwasebem,  "lac"  (Rale),  and  tegw-k,  (a  specific)  "stream." 

Chesun'cook :  a  lake  on  the  West  Branch  of  the  Penobscot ; 
"  the  biggest  lake."  The  name  may  designate  or  be  applied  to 
the  lake  at  its  outlet,  that  being  the  point  from  which  the  Indian 
coming  up  the  Penobscot  would  first  see  it.  Its  composition 
would  then  be  from  che,  "  great "  ;  the  root  sank,  seen  in  sanghede- 
'tegwe,  "  1' embouchure,  sortie  [de  la  riviere],"  and  in  sanktaiia)i, 
"  ou  il  finit  d'etre,  riviere  v.  ruisseau,  &c.,"  i.  e.  its  mouth,  or 
in  nesankirre,  "  la  terre  sur  le  bord  du  fleuve  "  (Rale)  ;  and  ki-k, 
(a  specific)  "place," — "great-discharge  place." 

Chicum'skook :  Grindstone  Falls  on  the  East  Branch  of  the 
Penobscot.  The  word  is  said  to  mean  "  big  falls,"  and  to  be  a 
mixture  of  two  dialects,  Maliseet  and  Penobscot  (S.  S.).  It 
may  come  from  chi,  "  big,"  onbsk  or  ompsk,  "  rock  "  or  "  bowlder," 
and  ki-k,  (a  specific)  "place,"  —  "big-bowlder  place." 

Chimkazaook'took :  one  of  the  upper  branches  of  the  St.  John ; 
from  chi,  "great,"  mkazewighen,  (il  est)  "noir"  (Rale),  and 
tega>-k,  (a  specific)  "  stream," — "big  black  stream." 

Cob'scook :  a  stream  that  empties  into  Passamaquoddy  Bay  ; 
"falls,  or  rough  water"  (Passamaquoddy  Indian).  Cf.  Ohicum- 
skook. 

Cussabex'is :  a  pond  near  Chesuncook  Lake  ;  "  where  there  is 
a  big  lake  connected  with  a  pond,  so  you  can  go  up  without 
poling"  (F.  N.).  This  explanation  is  evidently  wrong,  as  it 
describes  Moose  Pond,  below  Cussabexis.  May  not  the  word  be 
the  name  of  the  brook  which  flows  out  of  Cussabexis,  and  be 
equivalent  to  kesibecksis,  from  kesitswann,  "  elle  est  rapide " 


INDIAN   PLACE-NAMES.  197 

(Rale),  nebi'  or  nebpe',  "  water,"  &,  locative,  and  sis,  the  diminu- 
tive,—  "  the  little  swift  water"  ? 

Ebee'me,  or  Ebee'min :  applied  to  a  mountain,  and  to  a  gorge 
known  as  the  "  Gauntlet,"  north  of  Brownville,  Piscataquis  Co. ; 
"  where  they  get  high-bush  cranberries  "  (S.  S.).  Under  "  Les 
fruits  des  arbres,"  Rale  gives  atebimin,  "  gros  co'e  [comme]  de 
gros  poix,  rouges,"  and  ibimin,  "  rouges,  mauvais." 

E^andam'ookganop'skitschwak :  "stair  falls,"  on  the  East 
Branch  of  the  Penobscot  (S.  S.). 

Eptchedge'wak :  thoroughfare  between  North  Twin  and  South 
Twin  Lakes ;  "  where  two  currents  coming  from  opposite  or 
different  directions  meet."  See  Abojedge'wak. 

Eskutas'sis :  a  stream  in  Lowell ;  "  small  trout,"  from  skcotam, 
"truitte"  (Rale),  and  sis,  diminutive.  Another  form  is  Skw- 
tarza. 

Eskwes'kw^wad'jo :  Bald  Mountain,  north  of  Holden,  Somer- 
set Co. ;  "  she-bear  mountain."  Wadjo  is  "  mountain,"  while  for 
"  she-bear  "  Rale  gives  atseskco.  Cf.  Noose  skw  (Rand's  Micmac 
Reader,  page  44). 

Etasix'ti:  Wilson  Pond,  near  Moosehead  Lake;  "where  they 
had  a  great  fight,"  or  "  destruction  ground." 

Hock'amock:  see  Ndmok'anok. 

Katepskonegan :  falls  and  dead-water  on  the  West  Branch  of 
the  Penobscot ;  "  a  carry  over  a  ledge,"  from  kat,  keht,  or  k't, 
"  big,"  peskco,  "  rock  "  or  "  ledge,"  and  ami'gan,  "  carry,"  —  "  big- 
ledge  carry." 

Kawaps'kitchwak :  Machias  West  River  ;  "  sharp  rough  rips  " 
(F.  N.);  "rocky  stream"  (Passam.  Indian). 

Ken'nebec :  "  long  river  " ;  from  Jcajng,  "  long,"  nebpe', "  water," 
and  ki,  "  land,"  or  "  place,"  -  —  "  long-water  place." 

Ket/tegw($'wick:  "the  West  Branch  of  the  Penobscot"; 
formed  from  ket  or  keht,  "  great,"  tegcoS,  "  stream,"  and  wick, 
"  place."  This  name  and  that  of  the  East  Branch,  Wassa'tegwe1- 


198  APPENDIX. 

ivick  (q.  v.),  are  applicable  to  the  respective  streams  at  their 
junction.  The  Indian  coming  up  the  river,  when  he  has  arrived 
at  Nicketow,  "  the  great  forks,"  decides  which  branch  he  will  fol- 
low, whether  the  western  or  "  main  branch,"  Kettegwe,  or  the  east- 
ern, "  where  he  will  find  fishing  [by  torch-light] ,"  Wassdtegwe. 

Kin'eo :  a  mountain  in  Moosehead  Lake ;  said  by  a  St.  Francis 
Indian  to  mean  "  high  bluff." 

Kianganis'secook :  first  falls  on  the  Mattawamkeag  River 
above  the  village  of  that  name;  "narrow  like  a  door"  (F.  N.). 
Cf.  klangan,  "  porte  "  (Rale).  • 

Kokadjeweemgwa'sebem :  Roach  Pond,  near  Moosehead  Lake ; 
from  kok, " kettle,"  wadjo,  "mountain,"  and pegaaselem,  "lake," 
—  "  kettle-mountain  lake." 

Kokadjeweemgwasebem'sis:  Spencer  Pond,  near  Moosehead 
Lake  ;  diminutive  of  the  foregoing,  "  kettle-mountain  pond." 

Kokad'jo :  the  more  westerly  of  the  Spencer  Mountains,  near 
Moosehead  Lake  ;  "  kettle  mountain." 

Ktaadn:  in  Piscataquis  Co.;  "the  biggest  mountain";  from 
ket  or  &'£,  "  big,"  and  the  inseparable  adene,  "  mountain."  In 
Gyles's  "Captivity"  it  is  called  "  Teddon."  Cf.  Uktutunook, 
"  the  highest  mountain  "  (Rand). 

Kwana'tacc^gomah'so :  Poland  Pond,  a  tributary  to  Caucom- 
gomoc  Lake. 

Kwan6k'sangama'sk :  Loon  Lake,  near  Caucomgomoc ;  "  peaked 
pond,"  i.  e.  pointed  at  each  end. 

Kwan6'sangama'ik :  Webster  Lake,  on  the  East  Branch  of  the 
Penobscot.  The  meaning  is  said  to  be  the  same  as  in  the  pre- 
ceding. Quaere,  whether  k  should  be  inserted  here  after  o,  or 
dropped  from  the  other  word,  or  whether  there  is  a  slight  shade 
of  difference  in  the  significations  of  the  two  words  ? 

Kweueuktonoonk'hdgan' :  Moose  River;  "  snow-shoe  river"; 
so  called  from  that  part  of  it  above  Attean  Pond,  where  it  bends 
like  the  frame  of  a  snow-shoe  (St.  Francis  Indian). 


INDIAN  PLACE-NAMES.  199 

Lapompique,  or  Lapompeag :  a  branch  of  the  Aroostook ;  "  rope- 
stream,  i.  e.  crooked  "  (F.  N.). 

Lunksoos:  a  mountain  and  stream  on  the  East  Branch  of  the 
Penobscot ;  "  Indian  devil,"  or  "  catamount." 

Macwa'hoc:  corrupted  from  Macwtikook,  or  Mackwokhok  ; 
"bog  brook"  (F.  N.).  According  to  '  Pennowit,  however,  it 
should  be  Temahkwe'cook,  "  beaver  place " ;  from  temcfk&g, 
"  beaver,"  and  ki-k,  (a  specific)  "  place." 

Madawas'ka:  a  branch  of  the  St.  John,  and  a  branch  of 
the  Aroostook.  Mandawas'kek^  "  porcupine  place "  (Maliseet 
Indian).  Rale  gives  Mandawessa)  for  "  porcupine."  Cf.  Ma- 
dawescac ;  M£dawiskak,  "  where  one  river  enters  another " 
(Rand). 

Maddun'keunk,  Medun'keeunk :  see  Namadunkeehunk. 

Mahklicongo'moc :  Pleasant  Lake,  near  the  Allagash ;  "  hard- 
wood-land lake."  Cf.  Rale's  marikak,  "  lieu  ou  il  n'y  a  op  du 
bois  franc,  seu,  ou  il  n'y  a  point  de  sapinage "  ;  also,  kwesow- 
malegek,  "a  hard-wood  point"  (Rand). 

Mahkoniah'gok:  the  "  Gulf  "  near  Katahdin  Iron  Works  ;  "  a 
hole  in  the  river"  (S.  S.). 

Mahnagwa'negwa'sebem :  "Rainbow  Lake,"  near  the  Penob- 
scot, opposite  Mount  Ktaadn.  It  is  more  than  likely  that  this 
is  a  mere  translation  of  the  English  name  of  the  lake,  and  there- 
fore not  a  genuine  Indian  place-name. 

Mahnek^bahn'tik :  Caribou  Lake  (near  Chesuncook),  or  a  place 
near  its  outlet,  "  where  they  used  to  get  cedar  bark  for  packs, 
&c.  in  going  down  the  West  Branch."  Or,  "  where  they  got 
'wycobee,'  or  leather-wood"  (S.  S.),  the  a>ighebimi#i,  "bois 
blanc,"  of  Rale. 

Matagoo'dus :  a  tributary  of  the  Penobscot ;  "  bad  landing  "  ; 
"bad  landing  for  canoes"  (F.  N.)  ;  Mategw£-oo-dis,  "meadow- 
ground"  (S.  S.).  Cf.  agwiden,  "canot"  (Rale),  and  matta  or 
matsi,  "  bad." 


200  APPENDIX. 

Matamiscon'tis :  a  branch  of  the  lower  Penobscot.  Dr.  J. 
Hammond  Trumbull  thinks  this  word  represents  "  met-anmswak- 
kantti,  *•  a  place  where  there  has  been  (but  is  not  now)  plenty  of 
alewives,'  or  to  which  they  no  longer  resort."  Coll.  Conn.  Hist. 
Society,  Vol.  II.  p.  25. 

Matanau'cook,  Mat  ana' n  co  ok :  a  branch  of  the  lower  Penob- 
scot ;  "  place  of  bad  islands."  Its  composition  is  probably  from 
matsi  or  matta,  "  bad,"  mena'han  or  menan,  "  island,"  and  ki-k, 
(a  specific)  "  place." 

Matanga'moek :  Grand  Lake,  on  the  East  Branch  of  the  Penob- 
scot ;  "  old,  second-class  lake."  Pennowit  explained  by  saying 
that  hawks  used  to  breed  there  in  great  numbers,  and  they  killed 
off  the  ducks  and  partridges  so  completely  that  when  the  hunt- 
ers came  along  they  could  not  find  food  enough  for  their  sub- 
sistence ;  that  the  ledges  of  the  mountain  "  Horse's  Rump " 
were  covered  with  the  feathers  of  the  game  thus  destroyed,  and 
the  Indians,  with  contempt  perhaps,  called  the  place  "  old."  The 
word  then  probably  comes  from  the  root  of  m£tandam,  "  il  est 
vieux,  il  ne  peut  plus  aller  nul  part"  (Rale),  and  gami-k,  (a 
specific)  "lake,"  —  "the  old,  exhausted  lake." 

An  Indian,  and  an  intelligent  one  too,  on  being  asked  by  the 
writer  to  explain  the  meaning  of  this  word,  said,  after  some 
hesitation,  that  he  could  not  do  so  in  English,  but  afterwards  on 
being  pressed  to  do  the  best  he  could,  said  it  meant  "  dirty, 
dusty,  —  old,"  conveying  the  idea  of  something  that  is  laid  aside 
as  unfit  for  use,  and  on  which,  therefore,  the  dust  soon  collects. 

Matanga'mooksis :  Second  Lake,  just  above  Grand  Lake. 
The  word  is  a  diminutive  of  the  foregoing. 

Matawam'keag  or  Mattawam'keag :  a  branch  of  the  Penobscot ; 
Mandd'wamkek,  "  down  where  a  stream  empties  into  the  main 
river,"  and  forms  a  pointed  gravel  or  sand  bar  below  its  mouth, 
connected  with  the  main  land.  A  St.  Francis  Indian  once  ex- 
plained to  the  writer  the  word  matanbahf,  as  "  we  are  over  into  a 


INDIAN   PLACE-NAMES.  201 

better  place  "  (cf.  Rale,  mattanbe,  "  il  va  au  bord  de  1'eau,"  and 
metdnbeniganik,  "au  bout  de  dela  du  portage"),  and  matanwam,  as 
"  we  are  over  the  sand  (or  gravel)  bar."  Hence  Matawamkeag 
should  seem  to  mean  "  place  beyond  the  sand  (or  gravel)  bar," 
and  should  seem  to  come  from  the  root  of  matanbe,  "  beyond  the 
end  of,"  am  or  um,  "  sand  "  or  "  gravel,"  and  Td-k,  (a  specific) 
"  place."  Cf.  Pamedomcook. 

Meduxnekeag,  Meduxnee'kek :  a  tributary  of  the  lower  St. 
John;  "where  the  people  go  out,"  i.  e.  from  the  interior  or 
woods. 

Megkwah'iagas :  locality  probably  on  or  near  the  lower  Penob- 
scot;  "red  hole  (on  an  island)."  Rale  gives  tetana>aragat, 
"trou  dans  le  bois,  a  la  cabane,  &c.,"  and  the  root  mkw  or  makco, 
"  red."  Cf.  Megwasaak,  "  red  rock  "  (Rand). 

Megkwak'anga'mik :  Mud  Pond,  at  the  head  of  the  Alla- 
gash ;  "  marsh  pond  " ;  from  megdak,  "  marecage,  de  1'eau  des 
terres  [?]  "  (Rale),  and  gami-k,  (a  specific)  "lake." 

Megkwa'k^ga'mocsis :  Harrow  Lake,  near  the  Allagash;  di- 
minutive form  of  the  preceding  word. 

Meianpswangarmoc :  corrupted  to  Meloxswangarmo  :  Joe  Merry 
Lake,  near  the  Penobscot;  "large-rock  lake"  (F.  N.).  Anps, 
from peskw,  means  "rock"  or  "ledge,"  while  melanps  appears  to 
mean  "  rocks  of  various  shapes."  Cf.  Milapskegechk1,  "  abound- 
ing in  rocks  of  all  shapes  and  sizes  "  (Rand). 

Menhanee'kek :  Ragged  Lake,  near  Chesuncook;  "place  of 
many  islands;"  from  mena'hancok,  " islands "  (Rale),  and  ki-k, 
(a  specific)  "  place." 

M^sak'k^t^sa'gewick :  the  Socatean,  a  stream  tributary  to 
Moosehead  Lake.  The  shorter  word  is  probably  a  contraction 
of  the  other,  being  the  second,  third  and  fourth  syllables  of  it, 
sakkete.  According  to  Pennowit  it  means  "half  burnt  land 
and  half  standing  timber  with  the  stream  separating  them." 
Cf.  nesakke,  "  je  suis  debout"  (Rale)  : — wick,  "place." 


202  APPENDIX. 

Meskaskeeseehunk :  north  branch  of  the  Mattawamkeag 
River;  "little  spruce  brook"  (F.  N.).  Of.  messkask,  "pin 
rouge  "  (Rale). 

Meskee'kwagama'sic :  Black  Pond  on  Caucomgomoc  stream ; 
"  grassy  pond " ;  from  meski'kcoar,  " herbes "  (Rale),  garni,  " lake," 
es9  diminutive,  and  ik,  locative. 

Mgwasebem'sistook :  Russell  Stream,  north  of  Moosehead 
Lake;  "stream  of  a  little  lake";  f rom peg&asebem,  "lac"  (Rale), 
sis,  diminutive,  and  tegn-k,  (a  specific)  "  stream." 

MiliinS'kett,  Milno'kett:  lakes  on  th,  Penobscot  and  Aroos. 
took  respectively;  by  Pennowit  pronounced  as  if  written  Mill- 
nah'gkek.  It  is  said  to  be  the  equivalent  of  the  Maliseet 
millog'kamKlc),  which  is  a  lake  that  has  many  irregularities  in 
the  way  of  points,  coves,  ledges,  and  islands.  "  If  you  ask  me 
what  kind  of  a  lake  Moosehead  Lake  was,  I  say  '  millb'g'kami,'  - 
i.  e.  it  has  no  shape"  (Maliseet  Indian).  Of.  Milpddchk,  "having 
many  coves"  (Rand). 

Mi'seree :  a  pond  and  stream  that  empty  into  Brassua  Lake ; 
often  spelled  on  old  maps  "  Misery,"  but  by  some  persons 
thought  to  be  Indian.  Rale  gives  mesairi,  "  bien,"  and  mesaire- 
dwr,  "  plusieurs  choses,"  from  which  may  have  come  that  part 
of  the  word  that  still  remains. 

Misspeck'y,  Moosepeck'ick :  part  of  the  coast  west  of  Machias. 
It  probably  means  "  overflowed " ;  from  nemissbegJiesi,  "  je  suis 
mouille"  (Rale).  Of.  Mespaak,  "overflowed  (by  the  tide)" 
(Rand). 

Mkazaook'took :  Little  Black  River,  a  branch  of  the  St.  John, 
and  Pine  Stream,  a  tributary  of  the  West  Branch  of  the  Penob- 
scot; from  mkazewighen,  (il  est)  "noir,"  (Rale),  and  tegw-k,  (a 
specific)  "  stream,"  -  —  "  black  stream." 

Molun'kus,  Molun'kes :  a  branch  of  the  Mattawamkeag ;  "  a 
short  stretch  of  high  land  on  a  small  stream."  Also,  "high 
bank  on  each  side  of  the  stream"  (F.  N.). 


INDIAN   PLACE-NAMES.  203 

Mooseieuk :  a  branch  of  the  Aroostook ;  "  moose  place."  For 
"  moose  "  Rale  gives  mcos. 

Moskwaswa^a'moc :  Shallow  Lake,  near  Caucomgomoc ; 
"muskrat  lake";  from  mcoskcoessco,  "rat  musque' "  (Kale),  and 
gami-k,  (a  specific)  "  lake." 

Moskwaswanga'mocsis :  Dagget  Pond,  on  the  stream  just 
below  Shallow  Lake  ;  diminutive  of  the  preceding. 

Mskwamagwesee'boo :  Hale  Brook,  on  the  upper  Penobscot 
("  South  Branch  ") ;  "  salmon  brook  "  (Penobscot  Indian) ;  from 
meskwamegvak)  "  saumons,"  and  8ipa>,  "  riviere  "  (Rale). 

Munolammomin'gun :  the  west  branch  of  Pleasant  River,  Pis- 
cataquis  Co. ;  "  very  fine  paint,  or  place  where  it  is  found,  or 
great  quantity  of  it."  (See  letter  of  Moses  Greenleaf  in  a 
pamphlet  entitled  "  The  First  Annual  Report  of  the  American 
Society  for  Promoting  the  Civilization  and  General  Improvement 
of  the  Indian  Tribes  in  the  United  States."  New  Haven,  1824.) 
The  name  takes  its  signification  from  the  iron  ore  found  in 
Katahdin  Iron  Works  township,  near  the  stream,  this  ore  being 
sometimes  of  a  bright  vermilion  color,  and  used,  when  ground 
up,  for  paint.  Cf.  Oolammonongamook. 

Munsun'gan :  lakes  at  the  head  of  the  Aroostook.  Pennowit 
at  one  time  said  munasun  meant  a  "  cut,"  and  that  munsungan 
meant  "  where  they  killed  a  good  many  moose  and  cut  off 
streaks  of  fat  (somewhere)  between  the  shoulders."  Cf.  Munow, 
"the  fat  of  a  J)ird"  (Rand).  At  another  -time  Pennowit  ex- 
plained the  word  as  "  where  they  spear  (any  kind  of)  fish."  — 
Mansungun,  "  where  they  speared  salmon."  (F.  N.) 

Musquacook :  a  tributary  of  the  Allagash ;  "  birch  bark 
place";  from  maskcoe,  "  ecorce  de  bouleau  a  cabaner  "  (Rale), 
and  ki-k,  (a  specific)  "  place." 

Nahmajim'skicongo'moc :  Haymock  Lake,  near  the  Allagash ; 
"  lake  of  the  dead-water  that  extends  up  into  the  high 
land." 


204  APPENDIX. 

Nahmajimskit'egwek :  Smith  Brook,  Eagle  Lake  on  the  Alla- 
gash  ;  "  the  dead-water  extends  up  into  the  high  land." 

Nahmakan'ta:  a  lake  and  its  outlet,  tributary  to  the  Penob- 
scot;  probably  from  names,  "fish,"  and  kantti,  "there  are  plenty," 
—  "where  there  are  plenty  of  fish."  The  word  names  is  ex- 
plained by  the  hunters  among  the  Penobscots  as  "  lakers  "  or 
togue,  the  largest  of  their  lake  fish,  although  Dr.  Trumbull  in- 
clines to  the  belief  that,  as  the  form  of  the  word  is  a  diminutive, 
the  fish  designated  by  it  must  be  of  the  "  smaller  sort." 

Naia'seema^amSk'sis :  Shad  Pond,  on  the  Penobscot ;  "rest- 
ing-place (after  poling  up  the  river)."  Cf.  Nollesemic. 

Nailagwa'gwis,  Narraguay'gus :  river  and  bay  -  on  the  south- 
eastern coast  of  Maine :  "  something  breaks  that  you  cannot 
fix." 

Namadun'keeunk :  "  the  stream  is  level  and  suddenly  one 
comes  to  a  swift  place  up  which  one  must  pole."  -  —  "  It  goes  up 
rapid  from  the  mouth  of  the  brook."  (F.  N.) — "The  brook 
runs  up  to  the  '  horseback.'  "  (S.  S.)  —  Cf .  "  Nemtdkdyak',  <  it 
extends  straight  up  rising  ground '  (you  looking  up  stream,  of 
course,  in  all  such  cases,  and  there  being  a  long  reach  of 
rapids)."  (Rand.) 

Nam6k'anSk :  an  island  in  the  Penobscot  above  Oldtown,  near 
Mohawk  Rips  ;  "  high  land,  —  kind  of  a  lump."  (F.  N.) 

Neihudus :  see  Nulhedus. 

Nesowadnehunk' :  stream  near  Mt.  Ktaadn ;  "  the  mountains 
from  Ktaadn,  that  stream  runs  among  them."  This  word  is 
probably  from  ntsaaiwi,  "au  milieu"  (Rale),  or  the  more  modern 
form  nesowawi,  the  inseparable  adene,  "  mountain,"  and  hunk, 
"  brook."  Just  what  is  the  difference  in  meaning  between  this 
word  and  Abocadneticook  is  not  clear,  unless  the  former  signifies 
that  the  stream  and  its  branches  wind  indefinitely  among  a 
group  of  mountains,  and  that  the  latter,  at  some  part  of  its 
course,  flows  between  mountains,  or  is  hemmed  in  by  them,  as 


IKDIAN   PLACE-NAMES.  205 

is  actually  the  case  with  these  streams,  respectively.  The  ex- 
planation given  under  Abocadneticook  —  "  narrowed  by  "  —  may 
have  been  meant  for  "  hemmed  in,"  or  may  have  referred  to  the 
river  valley  more  than  to  the  stream  itself. 

Nesun'tabunt :  a  mountain  near  Nahmakanta  Lake  :  "  three- 
headed";  from  nass,  "three,"  and  antep,  "head"  (Rale). 

Nik'etow,  Nicketou :  the  junction  of  the  East  and  West 
Branches  of  the  Penobscot ;  "  the  forks."  Cf.  Niktaak,  "  river- 
forks"  (Rand),  and  niketaw'tegwe,  "riviere  qui  fourche " 
(Rale). 

Nik'aVgamak :  another  name  for  Ragged  Lake,  near  Chesun- 
cook  ;  "  upper  -lake."  Cf.  nikkannif ra,  "  il  marche  le  lr  par  eau" 
(Rale),  the  root  of  which  is  evidently  here  joined  with  gami-k, 
(a  specific)  "  lake." 

Nohika'imana'han :  Deer  Island,  Moosehead  Lake ;  from  n&r- 
kaw  O%e"),  ("plat  eot6  de)  chevreuil"  (Rale),  with  the  inter- 
change of  r  for  ?,  and  mana'han,  "  island."  It  is  more  than 
probable  that  the  Indian  name  is  merely  the  translation  of  the 
English,  and  not  original. 

Noianga'moik :  Ripogenus  Lake,  on  the  Penobscot ;  "  resting- 
place  (after  the  long  carry  below  it)." 

Noiie'semic,  Nola'semik :  a  lake  near  the  Penobscot ;  similar 
in  meaning  to  the  preceding.  The  name  seems  to  have  been 
wrongly  transferred  to  this  pond  from  Shad  Pond,  Nalaseeman- 
gamoksis,  for  we  find  the  latter  on  old  plans  designated  "  Nole- 
seemack  "  and  "  Nollesemeck."  See  Land  Office  Records,  B.  2, 
PL  25,  and  B.  6,  PL  1. 

Noiiommussocon'gan :  an  island  just  below  the  mouth  of  the 
Stillwater,  Penobscot  River;  "where  they  catch  alewives " 
(F.  N.).  Cf.  anms(o  (Rale).  Penndwit  gave  the  form 

Noiums6khun'gun,  for  the  same  island,  but  did  not  explain 
it  further  than  to  say  that  the  Indians  used  to  stop  there 
to  "hunt." 


206  APPENDIX. 

Nukanconga'moc :  Clear  Pond,  at  the  head  of  Musquacook 
Stream,  Piscataquis  Co.;  "upper  or  head-water  pond."  Cf. 
Nik'anagamak. 

Nuihe'dus :  a  branch  of  the  Penobscot,  near  Moosehead  Lake. 
On  a  map  made  in  1815,  the  name  is  spelled  "  Nalla  Hoodus  " 
(Land  Office  Records,  B.  5,  PL  7).  The  form  NallaTioot'da  was 
given  the  writer  by  a  St.  Francis  Indian,  who  said  the  stream 
was  so  called  from  the  peculiar  outline  made  by  it  with  the 
river  at  and  above  their  junction,  the  outline  of  a  loop.  Nalla- 
hoodus,  "  a  fall  on  each  side."  (F.  N.) 

Numtsceenaga'nawis :  Elbow  Lake ;  "  a  little  cross-pond  "  at 
the  lower  end  of  North  Twin  Lake.  This  form  is  like  the 
second  form  of  name  for  Chamberlain  Lake,  BaamcJieenun'ga" 
mook,  the  first  syllable  being  very  hard  to  distinguish,  when 
spoken  by  the  Indians.  Cf.  Nemchenokpaaclik,  "  crosswise-lying 
lake."  (Rand.)  Cf.  also  Am'bajemac'komas. 

Numdemo'ciss :  a  stream  in  Washington  Co. ;  "  where  the 
suckers  go  up  to  spawn."  (F.  N.) 

Oloostook :   see  Wallastook. 

Oolammono/ngamook :  form  given  by  Pennowit,  and  desig- 
nates probably  the  pond  near  the  furnace  in  Katahdiii  Iron 
Works,  recently  rechristened  "  Silver  Lake."  Under  "  Vermilion, 
pinture,"  Rale  gives  wra'ma11,  which  with  gami-k  would  make" 
"  vermilion-paint  lake."  Cf.  Munolammonun' gun. 

Onzwaz6ge'hsuck :  Penobscot  Brook,  at  the  head  of  the 
West  Branch  of  the  Penobscot  ("South  Branch");  "when 
they  carry  by  there,  they  have  to  wade  across  '  quarter- 
ing.' "  (Penobscot  Indian.)  Cf.  Aswaguscawa'dic.  The  idea 
of  wading  and  dragging  a  canoe  prevails  in  both  explana- 
tions. 

p'ahn'moiwad'jo :  Squaw  Mountain,  Moosehead  Lake ;  plidi- 
nem,  "  femme  "  (Rale),  "  what  is  of,  or  belongs  to,  woman,"  and 
wadjo,  "  mountain."  The  Indian  name  is  taken  from  the  Eng- 


INDIAN  PLACE-NAMES.  207 

lish,  and,  so  far  as  the  writer  can  learn,  there  is  no  distinctive 
original  Indian  name  for  the  mountain. 

Pamedomcook,  Femidumcook  :  a  lake  on  the  Penobscot ;  "  bar 
or  shallow  place  between  two  lakes."  Also,  "  a  gravel  or  sand 
bar  runs  into  or  through  the  middle  of  the  lake."  (S.  S.)  The 
idea  seems  to  be  that  the  bar  has  not  necessarily  any  connec- 
tion with  the  land.  The  word  appears  to  come  from  pemaiwi, 
(which  here  has  rather  the  force  of  au  tr avers  de,  "  through  the 
midst  of,"  or  d  travers,  "  crosswise,"  than  of  de  travers,  "  aslant,") 
an  Abnaki  word  for  "  sand,"  which  seems  to  be  urn  [cf.  pogom- 
kek,  pogumkek,  and  pemdmkek,  the  last  "  a  stretch  of  sand " 
(Rand)]  and  ki-k,  (a  specific)  "  place,"  -  — "  the  place  where  the 
sand  stretches  through  or  across  [the  lake]." 

Parmachee'nee :  a  lake  and  stream  of  the  Rangeley  system. 
Cf.  A'pmoojene'f/amook. 

Pasconga'moc :  Holeb  Pond  on  the  headwaters  of  Moose 
River.  Synonymous  with  Pescongamoc  (q.  v.). 

Passadum'keag :  a  branch  of  the  lower  Penobscot ;  "  falls  run- 
ning over  a  gravel-bed."  Also,  "  getting  over  the  gravel-bars." 
(S.  S.)  Also,  "  at  the  head  of  the  rips,"  or  "  one  goes  up  an 
incline  and  comes  to  dead-water."  (F.  N.)  Cf.  Rale,p#wstoW, 
"  au  de-la  du  rapide,  de  la  chute  d'eau."  Cf.  also  Matawamkeag. 

Fassamaga'moc,  corrupted  to  Fassamagammet :  a  lake  and 
rapids  on  the  Penobscot.  See  Pescongamoc. 

Fatagum'kis :  a  tributary  of  the  Penobscot,  "  sandy  round 
cove."  Cf.  Pogomklgedk,  "a  dry  sandy  place."  (Rand.)  It 
may  come  from  petegw,  "  round,"  um,  "  sand  "  or  "  gravel,"  ki, 
"place,"  and  es,  diminutive,  —  "little  round  sand-place,"  or 
"  little  place  of  round  gravel." 

Patagus'sis:  Smith  Brook,  a  branch  of  the  Mattawamkeag. 
It  seems  also  to  be  called  Mesotoocus. 

Fataquonga'mis :  Telosinis  Lake,  south  of  Chamberlain  Lake  ; 
a  lake  on  the  lower  Allagash,  and  a  pond  between  Allagash  and 


208  APPENDIX. 

Chamberlain  Lakes  ;  "  round  pond  "  ;  from  petegw,  "  round," 
garni,  "  lake,"  and  es,  diminutive.  According  to  Rale,  however, 
peteg&i' ghen  means  "it  is  round"  (like  a  ball),  while  "round 
and  flat "  is  a  different  word  altogether. 

Pataweekongo'moc :  the  name  by  which  the  Indians  desig- 
nated Telos  Lake,  before  the  canal  was  made  between  it  and 
Webster  Lake ;  "  burnt-land  lake." 

Fata'weektook :  Ragmuff  Stream,  a  tributary  of  the  West 
Branch  of  the  Penobscot ;  "  burnt-land  stream."  Cf .  Petdwa- 
gamegek,  "  a  charred  grove,"  and  Pedawogunaak,  "  a  burnt-over 
place"  (Rand). 

Fenob'scot :  one  of  the  principal  rivers  of  Maine ;  pronounced 
by  the  Indians  Pannauwmbs'kek.  According  to  Dr.  Trumbull, 
"  the  first  syllable,  pen  (Abn.  panna)  represents  a  root  meaning 
4  to  fall  from  a  height,'  —  as  in  pamtekw, '  fall  of  a  river '  or 
'  rapids ' ;  penanki,  '  fall  of  land,'  the  descent  or  downward  slope 
of  a  mountain,"  &c.  Pannaumbsk  is  said  to  mean  "  a  sloping 
rock,  or  one  that  is  larger  at  the  top  than  at  the  bottom." 
Again,  Pannaumbskek  is  explained  by  a  Maliseet  Indian,  long 
resident  at  Oldtown,  as  "  there  are  ledges  on  each  bank  of  a 
river,  and  just  below  them  the  river  widens  considerably."  Cf. 
Banooopskek,  "  opening  out  among  rocks  "  (Rand).  Pannaumbs- 
kek  refers  to  some  point  on  the  river,  the  stream  itself  being 
called  by  the  Indians  Pannaumbskook'took.  Cf.  Pnapeskco  (Rale). 

Fes'conga'moc :  a  small  lake  north  of  Pamedomcook,  and 
very  near  the  Penobscot.  From  this  latter  circumstance  it  takes 
its  name,  "  branch  lake,"  from  peskt,  "  branch  "  (primarily  "  di- 
vided "  or  "  split "),  and  gami-k,  (a  specific)  "  lake." 

Fes'k^'gat :  Lobster  Lake,  near  Moosehead ;  "  branch  of  a 
dead-water " ;  from  peskS,  "  branch,"  and  begat,  an  inseparable 
for  "  water  "  (from  nebpe,  and  literally  "  where  there  is  water  "). 
On  this  lake  a  long  point  of  land  juts  out  into  the  water  and 
encloses  on  one  side  a  large  and  deep  cove,  whence  the  transla- 


INDIAN   PLACE-NAMES.  209 

tion  "  split  or  divided  lake "  may  be  a  better  one  than  that 
given  by  Pennowit. 

Fes'kebski'tegwek :  Soper  Brook,  Eagle  Lake  on  the  Alla- 
gash ;  "  branch  of  a  dead-water  emptying  into  a  lake."  In  this 
word  appear  peske,  "  branch,"  ski,  or  skit,  a  root  applied  to  water 
in  a  stream,  "  at  rest,"  and  tega-k,  (a  specific)  "  stream." 

Pes'k^do'pi'kek :  Alder  Brook,  upper  waters  of  the  West 
Branch  of  the  Penobscot ;  "  branch  of  an  alder-place "  (Penob- 
scot  Indian).  The  form  given  by  S.  S.  is  Pes'ke  wydo'fpikek, 
from  peske,  "branch,"  codoppi,  "  1'aune "  (Rale),  and  ki-k,  (a 
specific)  "  place." 

Fetconga'moc :  pond  at  the  head  of  the  Allagash ;  "  crooked 
pond,  or  one  that  returns  in  the  same  direction  in  which  it  first 
ran."  Cf.  Petkootkwedk,  "the  river  bends  round  in  a  bow." 
(Rand.) 

Fiscat'aquis :  a  branch  of  the  Penobscot ;  "  little  branch 
stream  "  ;  from  peske,  "  branch,"  tegcoe,  "  stream,"  and  es,  dimin- 
utive. 

Pockwoc'kamus :  a  lake  or  dead-water  on  the  Penobscot, 
and  Mud  Pond  southwest  of  Chamberlain  Lake ;  "  mud  pond." 
We  see  here  in  composition  gami-es,  "  little  lake,"  i.  e. 
«  pond." 

Foktim'keswangam6' ksis :  Harrington  Lake  near  Chesuncook ; 
"  a  pond  with  a  gravelly  outlet."  This  word,  although  it  desig- 
nates the  lake,  is  more  properly  applicable  to  a  small  pond  at  its 
outlet.  The 'word  is  formed  from  pokum,  "dry  sand,"  ki-es, 
"little  place,"  gami-k,  (a  specific)  "lake,"  and  sis,  diminutive, — 
"  little-dry-sand  (or  gravel)  place  pond."  Cf.  Pogomklgeak,  "  a 
dry  sand  place."  (Rand.) 

Fongokwa'hemook :  Eagle  Lake,  Allagash  River ;  "  wood- 
pecker place."  "  When  the  woodpeckers  first  came  from  the 
west  and  rapped  on  the  trees,  the  Indians  heard  them,  and 
named  the  lake  from  them." 

u 


210  APPENDIX. 

Fopokfim'ukwodchu'ssu :  Whetstone  Falls,  on  the  East  Branch 
of  the  Penobscot.  (S.  S.) 

Fotawadjo :  near  Pamedomcook  Lake,  on  the  Penobscot ; 
"  whale  mountain."  (F.  N.) 

FotobeV :  Lily  Bay,  Moosehead  Lake ;  probably  nothing 
more  than  the  generic  name  for  bay.  In  it  are  distinguishable 
the  root  poto,  "  bulging,"  nebpe,  "  water,"  and  &,  locative,  "  where 
the  water  bulges." 

Psiscon'tic :  Brassua  Lake,  near  Moosehead ;  "  handiest  place 
to  build  canoes."  (?) 

Qua'kis,  or  Quakish :  a  pond  on  the  Penobscot  above  Nicke- 
tow.  See  Nalaseemangamoksis. 

Sabota'wan:  the  more  easterly  of  the  Spencer  Mountains, 
near  Moosehead  Lake;  "bundle  or  pack,  —  the  end  of  it,  where 
the  strap  is  pulled  together." 

Sanghibpa/ntook :  falls  between  Chesuncook  and  Kipogenus 
Lakes  ;  "  rough  or  hard  falls"  ;  from  the  root  of  san'ghere,  "cela 
est  dur,"  and  pantekw,  "  chute  d'eau"  (Rale). 

Sahbimski'tegwek :  Thoroughfare  Brook,  below  Eagle  Lake 
on  the  Allagash ;  "  a  branch  or  stream  that  empties  between 
two  large  bodies  of  water." 

Sahkha'b&iaiuck' :  Moose  Eiver,  Moosehead  Lake;  "more 
water  flowing  from  it  than  from  any  other  stream  that  empties 
into  the  lake." 

Sahkkah<$'gan :  Telos  Lake  (ever  since  the  cut  was  made) ; 
"  water  connecting  with  another  body  of  water."  See  Patdivee- 
kongomoc. 

Sapompeag :  should  be  Lapompeag  (q.  v.). 

SawadalDscook,  or  Sowadabscook :  a  branch  of  the  lower 
Penobscot ;  "  place  of  large  smooth  rocks."  Here  we  see  ompsk 
or  auwmbsk,  "  rock,"  and  ki-k,  (a  specific)  "  place." 

Schoo'dic :  the  name  of  several  lakes  and  streams  in  Maine. 
Pennowit  gives  for  it  the  form  "  Eskoo'tuk,  trout  place." 


INDIAN   PLACE-NAMES.  211 

Sebam'ook :  Moosehead  Lake.     See  following  word. 

Sebec' :  a  lake  and  stream  tributary  to  the  Piscataquis ; 
"  large  body  of  water,"  or  "  extending  water."  The  writer  is 
very  much  inclined  to  the  belief  that  this  word  comes  from  the 
root  wassci,  "  bright,"  nebpe',  "  water,"  and  &,  locative ;  for  we 
find  in  Rale,  under  "Glair,"  vasseghen,  "il  est  clair  a  travers  ces 
arbres,  il  faut  qu'il  y  ait  la  une  riviere,  lac,  prairie,  &c."  A 
similar  derivation  would  hold  for  Sebay'gook  (or  Sebago,  coasse- 
bec/at),  Seba'mook,  and  Xsebern',  the  four  forms  being  said  by  the 
Indians  to  have  the  same  general  meaning.  A  St.  Francis 
Indian  once  told  the  writer  that  Xsebem'  would  be  the  exclama- 
tion he  should  use,  if,  on  going  through  the  woods,  he  should 
see  the  light  grow  bright  through  the  trees,  an  indication  that 
a  pond  was  near. 

Seboo'is :  a  lake  and  stream  tributary  to  the  East  Branch  of 
the  Penobscot ;  from  sipay,  "  river,"  and  es,  diminutive,  "  little 
river." 

Seebarticook:  Indian  Pond,  on  the  Kennebec,  just  below 
Moosehead  Lake  ;  "  '  logon '  stream." 

Seeboo'mook :  Elm  Stream,  on  the  Penobscot,  north  of 
Moosehead  Lake  ;  "  my  river  "  (F.  N.).  Each  regular  hunter 
and  trapper  has  his  own  territory  in  the  forests,  on  which  it  is 
considered  a  breach  of  "backwoods"  etiquette  for  others  to 
hunt  or  trap.  This  stream  was  probably  within  the  district  of 
some  such  hunter.  Sipa,  "  river." 

Sisiadob'sis :  a  lake  in  Eastern  Maine ;  probably  from  Si'ga- 
londo'pskes,  "  rocky  lake  "  (S.  S.). 

Skit'ticook  :  a  branch  of  the  Mattawamkeag ;  "dead-water"  ; 
from  ski,  or  skit,  "  water  "  in  a  stream  "  at  rest,"  and  tegw-k,  (a 
specific)  "  stream." 

Skowhe'gan :  a  town  and  waterfall  on  the  Kennebec  ;  "  where 
the  Indians  used  to  wait  for  fish  to  run  up,  and  to  spear  them  as 
they  went  by."  Cf.  kankskacoihigan  (Rale). 


212  APPENDIX. 

Skutar'za :   see  JEskutas'sis. 

Soca'tean :  see  Mesak'ketesa'gewick. 

Sogha'li  mana'han :  Sugar  Island  in  Moosehead  Lake. '  This 
word  is  beyond  doubt  a  translation  of  the  English  name,  which 
was  given  to  the  island  by  Joseph  Norris,  surveyor,  in  1827,  on 
account  of  the  large  amount  of  sugar-maple  on  it. 

T&'cook' :  a  place  about  midway  of  the  Indian  island  at  Old- 
town,  on  the  west  shore,  at  the  rapids.  The  name  was  given  to 
the  writer  by  an  intelligent  Indian,  who  said  it  meant  "  waves." 
As  a  termination,  it  is  generally  written  ticook,  from  tegw-k,  and 
seems  to  refer  in  Maine  place-names  primarily  to  the  ripples  or 
waves  made  by  rapid  water. 

Temahkw^cook  :   see  Macwa'hoc. 

Tlowa'wa'yS :  Third  Lake,  on  the  East  Branch  of  the  Penob- 
scot. 

Tomhe'gan :  a  stream  which  empties  into  Moosehead  Lake ; 
from  toma'hegan',  "hatchet."  The  name  is  doubtless  not  of 
Indian  application,  or  else  it  has  lost  part  of  its  original  fornh 

Tuian'dic:  a  branch  of  the  upper  St.  John;  "where  they 
make  canoes"  (F.  N.).  Greenleaf  gives  the  alternative  name 
"  R.  du  Canot." 

Umbazook'skus :  a  tributary  of  the  Penobscot,  at  Chesuncook 
Lake ;  "  meadow  place." 

Umcoleus :   see  Umcolquis. 

Umcoi'quis  :  a  lake  and  stream  tributary  to  the  Aroostook ; 
from  "  umcolquesook,  whistling  duck"  (F.  N.). 

Umsas'kis :  a  lake  on  the  Allagash ;  Ansaskek,  "  having  op- 
posite points  which  run  out  to  meet  one  another"  (Maliseet 
Indian).  Very  graphically  described  in  Greenleaf 's  list  (see 
reference  under  Munolammonun' gun]  as  "tied  together  like 
sausages." 

Unsun'tabunt :  a  name  found  on  old  maps  for  Rainbow  Lake  ; 
"  wet  head  "  (F.  N.).  Queer e,  Can  the  name  be  a  corruption  of 
Nesuntabunt  ? 


INDIAN  PLACE-NAMES.  213 

Wahkasek'hoc :  on  the  Mattawamkeag  River ;  "  where  moose- 
hide  frames  were  left,  after  the  hides  had  been  cut  out."  (F.  N.) 

Wai'iastook,  Wooiastook :  the  St.  John  River;  "stream 
where  you  get  smooth  boughs."  Authorities  generally  think 
this  word  means  "  fine,"  "  good,"  or  "  beautiful  river."  Cf.  Mr. 
Rand's  "  St.  John  River,  Oolastook,  i  beautiful  river ' "  ;  also, 
corastegw,  "  la  riviere  de  St.  Jean  "  (Rale). 

Waiienipt^wee'kek :  South  Twin  Lake  on  the  Penobscot ; 
"  round  coves  surrounded  by  burnt  land."  We  see  here  the 
same  component,  pteweek,  as  in  Pata'weektook  (q.  v.).  For  the 
other  component,  cf .  WolndmkedJc,  "  a  sandy  cove,"  and  Wolnum- 
keajechk,  "  a  small  sandy  cove  "  (Rand). 

Wassa'taquoik :  a  tributary  of  the  East  Branch  of  the  Penob- 
scot. See  following  word. 

Wassa'tegw^wick :  the  East  Branch  of  the  Penobscot ;  "  any- 
body spearing,"  or,  more  correctly,  "place  where  they  spear 
fish."  The  root  wassa,  from  a>asseghen,  "  il  est  clair,"  or  coas- 
seghen,  (il  est)  "  blanc "  (Rale),  primarily  means  "  white," 
"bright,"  or  "clear,"  and  there  are  some  who  think  Wassd'- 
tegwe'wick  means  "  place  of  the  bright  or  sparkling  stream." 
The  secondary  meaning  of  coassa,  as  given  by  Rale,  appears 
in  wassenemaicoi/^  au  flambeau,  avec  une  lumiere,"  and  again 
under  "  Poisson,"  where  we  find  ncoassa,  "  j'en  prens  au  flam- 
beau," n  being  the  affix  for  the  personal  pronoun  of  the  first 
person. 

This  secondary  meaning  of  wassa  is  the  one  -applied  to  the 
East  Branch  of  the  Penobscot,  from  Niketow  up,  by  all  of  the 
hunters  among  the  Penobscot  Indians  that  the  writer  has  ques- 
tioned about  it.  This  stream  has  been  noted  for  its  salmon, 
which  the  Indians  as  a  people  spear  at  night,  by  torch-light. 
The  writer  has  no  hesitation  then  in  accepting  before  all  others 
the  translation  from  coassa,  tegwe,  "  stream,"  and  wick,  "  place," 
—  "  fish-spearing-stream  place." 


214  APPENDIX. 

The  form  Wassataquoik  seems  to  be  practically  the  same  as 
Wassategwewick,  taquoik  taking  the  place  of  tegwe-k.  Pennowif 
made  no  distinction  between  them,  except  to  say  repeatedly,  on 
two  occasions  a  year  apart,  that  the  latter  was  the  name  of  the 
main  East  Branch,  while  the  former,  which  he  pronounced 
wassa'tacook',  was  exclusively  the  name  of  the  smaller  stream 
tributary  to  it. 

Wassttm'k&a^wad'jo :  White  Cap  Mountain,  near  Katahdin 
Iron  Works ;  "  white  sand  mountain,"  because  from  a  distance 
the  bare  spots  of  detritus  on  its  summit  look  like  sand  (S.  S). 
Wassum  is  from  wasse,  "  white,"  "  bright,"  or  "  shining,"  and 
urn,  "  sand  "  or  "  gravel."  Wadjo  is  "  mountain." 

Wa/toorwangam/ook :  St.  John  Pond,  headwaters  of  the  St. 
John  River;  "pond  where  you  keep  cattle,  sheep,  caribou, 
moose,"  &c.  i.  e.  "  good  hunting  ground." 

Woboos'took :  Baker  Stream,  headwaters  of  the  St.  John. 
Of.  Wobooek,  "  the  water  appears  white  "  (Rand). 

Woolas'taquaguam' :  south  branch  of  the  St.  John.  The 
name  of  the  lake  from  which  this  stream  flows  has  probably 
been  abbreviated  and  otherwise  changed,  and  applied  to  the 
stream.  See  following  word. 

Woolas/tookwanguam'ok :  Baker  Lake,  near  the  head  of  the 
St.  John  River ;  "  lake  of  the  stream  where  you  get  smooth 
boughs."  See  preceding  word. 

Wydo'pikiock,  Wytopidiot :  a  branch  of  the  Mattawamkeag ; 
"  the  river  is  broad,  and  there  are  no  trees  on  its  banks  except 
alders  (wydo'pi)."  Cf.  wdoppi  (Rale). 

Xs^bem' :  Moosehead  Lake ;  "  extending  water."  See  the 
word  Sebec. 


INDIAN   PLACE-NAMES. 


215 


II.    CROSS-INDEX 


TO  INDIAN  NAMES  IN  THE   PRECEDING  LIST. 


ALDER,  BROOK,  Peskedo'pi'kek. 

Baker   Lake,    Woolastookwa*gua- 

mok. 

Baker  Stream,  JFoboostook. 
Bald  Mt.,  Eskweskwewadjo. 
Black  Pond,  Meskeekwagamasic. 
Black    Eiver.      See    Great    and 
Little  Black  River. 

Caribou  Lake,  Mahnekebahntik. 
Chamberlain    Lake,    A'pmoojene- 

gamook. 
Churchill     Lake,    Allagaskwiga- 

mook. 
Clear  Pond,  Nukancongamoc. 

Dagget  Pond,  Moskwaswangamoc- 

sis. 
Deer  Island,  Nohlkaimanahan. 

Eagle  Lake,  Pongokwahem. 
East  Branch  Penobscot,   WassOr 

tegwewick. 

Elbow  Lake,  Numtsceenaganawis. 
Elm  Stream,  Seeboomook. 

Gauntlet,  Ebeeme. 

Grand  Lake,  Matangamook. 


Grindstone  Falls,  Chicumskook. 
Gulf,  Mahkonlahgoc. 
Great  Black  Eiver,  Chimkazaook- 
took. 

Hale  Brook,  Mskwamdgweseeboo. 
Harrington  Lake,  Pokumkeswan- 
,    gainoksis. 
Harrow  Lake,  Megkwakangamoc- 

sis. 
Haymock  Lake,  Nahmajimskicon- 

gomoc. 
Holeb  Pond,  Pascongamoc. 

Indian  Pond,  Seeba'ticook. 

Joe  Merry  Lake,  Melanpswcunga- 
moc. 

Lily  Bay,  Potobe'k. 

Little   Black  Eiver,   Mkazaook- 

took. 

Lobster  Lake,  Peskebegat. 
Loon  Lake,  KwOjndksangamaik. 

Machias    West    Eiver,    Kawap- 

skitchwak. 
Moose    Eiver,   Kweueuktonoonk- 

hegan,  and  Sahkhabehaluck. 


216 


APPENDIX. 


Moosehead  Lake,  Sebamook,  and 

Xsebem. 
Mud  Pond,  Megkwakangamik,  and 

Pockwockamus. 

Penobscot    Brook,     Onzwazogeh- 

suck. 

Pine  Stream,  Mkazaooktook. 
Pleasant  Lake,  Mahklicongomoc. 
Pleasant  Eiver,  Munolammonun- 

gun. 
Poland  Pond,  Kwdnatacongomah- 

so. 

Priestley  Lake,  Aivanganis. 
Pushaw  Pond,  Beegwatook. 

Kagged  Lake,  Menhaneekek,  and 

Nik'anagamak. 

Eagmuff  Stream,  Pdtdweektook. 
Eainbow     Lake,     Mahnagwane- 


Eipogenus,  Nolangamoik. 
Eoach  Pond,  Kokadjeweemgwase- 

bem. 

Round  Pond,  Pataquongamis. 
Russell    Stream,    Mgwasebemsis- 

took. 


Second  Lake,  Matangamooksis. 
Shad  Pond,  Nalaseemangamoksis. 
Shallow    Lake,     Moskiuaswanga- 

moc. 

Silver  Lake,  Oolammononyamook. 
Smith    Brook,    Nahmajimskiteg- 

wek,  and  Patagussis. 


Soper  Brook,  Peskebskitegwek. 
Soubungy     Pond,     Allahtwkika- 

moksis. 
South    Twin    Lake,    Wallenipte 

weekek. 
Spencer  Mts.,  Kokadjo,  and  Sa- 

botawan. 
Spencer  Pond,  Kokadjeweemgwa- 

sebemsis. 
Spider  Lake,  Allagaskwigamook- 

sis. 

Squaw  Mt.,  P'ahnmo'iwadjo. 
Stair    Falls,    filandamookganop- 

skitschwak. 
St.    John    Pond,     WatoolwaPga- 

mook. 

St.  John  Eiver,  Wallastook. 
Sugar  Island,  Sogha'li  manahan. 

Telos    Lake,    Pataweekongomoc, 

and  Sahkkahegan. 
Telosinis,  Pataquongamis. 
Third  Lake,  Tlowawaye. 
Thoroughfare  Brook,  Sahbimski- 

tegwek. 
Turner  Brook,  Ahseddkwdsic. 

Webster  Lake,  Kwanosangamdik. 
West  Branch  Penobscot,  Ketteg- 

wewick. 
Whetstone  Falls,  Popokomukwod- 

chussu. 
White    Cap    Mt.,     Wassumkede- 

wadjo. 
Wilson  Pond,  fitasiiti. 


SHORAGE  OF  MOOSEHEAD  LAKE.       217 


III.    SHOKAGE   OF  MOOSEHEAD   LAKE. 

(See  Page  18.) 

IN  1827  Joseph  Norris  surveyed  the  shores  of  Moosehead 
Lake,  except  those  of  Day's  Academy  Grant,  from  the  north 
line  of  Bingham's  Keimebec  Purchase  northward  and  around 
the  lake  down  the  east  side  to  the  northwest  corner  of  Saco 
Free  Bridge  Grant,  now  a  part  of  Greenville.  The  total  meas- 
urement of  this  distance  was  26,154J  rods,  or  less  than  82 
miles.  If  we  allow  30  miles  for  the  shorage  of  Day's  Academy 
Grant,  and  35  miles  for  that  of  the  other  part  omitted  in  Norris's 
survey,  we  have  for  the  total  shorage  of  the  lake  147  miles. 
The  distance  apart  of  Norris's  contiguous  stations  varied  from 
a  few  rods  to  upwards  of  a  mile ;  his  total  number  of  stations 
\vas  385,  about  68  rods  apart  on  an  average.  Hence  we  should 
allow  something  for  distance  gained  by  deviation  or  curvature 
of  the  shores.  Thirty-eight  per  cent,  or  53  miles,  would  seem 
to  be  a  large  allowance,  and  that  would  bring  the  total  up  to 
only  200  miles. 

Again,  from  the  north  line  of  Bingham's  Kennebec  Purchase 
to  the  mouth  of  Moose  River,  Norris  made  the  shorage  2797 
rods  (with  39  stations),  and  from  Moose  River  to  Socatean  River1 
3,492J  rods  (with  94  stations),  or  together  nearly  20  miles.  The 
sinuosity  of  the  shore  between  these  points  is  fully  equal  to  its 
average  sinuosity,  and  the  distance  between  them  in  a  straight 
line  is  9.8  miles,  or  half  the  distance  by  the  shore.  The  average 
width  of  the  lake  is  not  more  than  5  miles ;  its  length,  36 
miles.  The  distance  around  it,  in  direct  lines,  would  then  be 
36  +  5  +  36  +  5  =  82  miles,  and  twice  this  amount,  164  miles, 

V 

1  See  chart,  page  220. 


218  APPENDIX. 

would  be  the  apparent  shorage,  to  which  we  may  add  36  miles, 
or  nearly  twenty-two  per  cent,  for  error,  and  our  total  then 
becomes  200  miles,  —  figures  considerably  below  the  popular 
estimates. 

According  to  Norris,  the  shorage  of  Sugar  Island  is  12 
miles  219  rods ;  that  of  Farm  Island,  5  miles  14  rods ;  that 
of  Moose  Island,  3  miles  301  rods ;  and  that  of  Sandbar  Island, 
1  mile  140  rods.  The  distance  around  the  Mount  Kineo  "  tract," 
through  a  pond  southeast  of  the  mountain,  is  6  miles  136  rods. 

See  Commissioners'  Survey,  A,  Land  Office,  Augusta. 


SOUNDINGS   IN   MOOSEHEAD   LAKE.  219 


IY.    SOUNDINGS   IN  MOOSEHEAD   LAKE. 

(See  Page  18.) 

THE  soundings  referred  to  were  taken  on  several  different 
occasions,  those  off  the  east  and  northeast  face  of  Mount  Kineo 
having  been  made  by  George  V.  Leverett,  Esq.,  and  the  writer, 
assisted  by  Edward  Masterman  as  guide ;  the  others,  by  the 
writer  and  his  Indian  guide.  The  accompanying  chart  shows 
approximately  the  locality  of  each  sounding.  Those  between 
Farm  Island,  Socatean  Point,  and  the  eastern  face  of  Mount 
Kineo  were  made  on  "  Yellow  Tuesday,"  in  August,  1881.  At 
that  time  the  temperature  of  the  air  was  78°  (Fahr.),  and  that 
of  the  water  at  the  surface  of  the  lake,  66°.5. 

The  following  table  shows  the  temperature  of  the  water  at 
different  depths,  viz. :  — 

DEPTH.                                         TEMP.                     DEPTH.  TEMP. 

Feet.                                                  o                            Feet.  o 

85.5 51.5  189.0 44- 

166.0 45.5  181.0 44.0 

188.5 45.0  191.0 43.75 

210.0 44.0  194.0 44.0 

208.0 44.0  194.0 44.0 

211.0 43.5  183.5 44  + 

212.0 44.0  182.0 44.0 

181.6 44+  205.0 43.5 

105.0 47.5  193.0 43.5 

63.5 51.5  142.0 46.0 

55.0 58.5  98.5 50.0 

113.0 46.0  26.0 64.0 

126.0 45.5  ,105.0 46.5 

154.0  44-  180.0  ,  43.5 


220 


APPENDIX. 


MILES. 


TOMHEGAN  STREAM. 


BROOK 


A,' 


^.;^^%!^s> 


MT.  KINEO  HOUSE. 


MAP    OF    FARM    ISLAND    BASIN,    MOOSEHEAD    LAIvE. 


TELOS   CANAL. 


221 


V.    TELOS   CANAL. 

UNTIL  the  year  1841  the  waters  of  Chamberlain  Lake  flowed 
through  a  chain  of  lakes  northeasterly  into  the  Allagash  and  St. 
John  Rivers.  A  large  tract  of  fine  timber  country  thus  had  no 
outlet  to  market  except  through  the  waters  of  New  Brunswick. 
Just  south  of  Chamberlain,  and  emptying  into  it,  were  two  lakes, 
the  upper  of  which,  Telos,  is  only  a  mile  from  Webster  Lake  on 
the  East  Branch  of  the  Penobscot.  The  latter  lake  is  said  to  be 
forty-seven  feet  lower  than  Telos.  A  ravine,  according  to  geolo- 
gists the  natural  bed  of  a  stream  which  in  antediluvian  times  con- 
nected these  two  lakes,  begins  a  few  rods  from  the  head  of  Telos 
and  runs  down  into  Webster  Lake.  It  was  therefore  perceived, 
that  by  an  inconsiderable  expenditure  of  money  a  thoroughfare 
for  logs  could  be  made  between  the  two  bodies  of  water,  and 
that  this  would  give  the  land-owners  what  they  wanted,  a  direct 
route  for  their  timber  to  a  home  market.  Accordingly,  in  March, 
1841,  a  dam  was  built  at  the  upper  end  of  Telos  under  the 
superintendence  of  Major  H.  Strickland,  for  Amos  M.  Roberts 
and  another,  who  then  owned  Telos  township.  Some  trees  were 
taken  out  at  that  time  from  below  the  dam,  and  in  the  following 
April,  or  early  in  May,  Chamberlain  Dam  was  also  built,  under 
Major  Strickland's  orders.  That  spring  the  water  ran  over  into 
Webster  Lake  and  a  successful  "drive"  was  made  through 
Webster  Brook,  for  which  purpose  in  part,  or,  according  to 
Benjamin  Dyer,  for  which  purpose  alone,1  the  Telos  Dam  had 
been  built. 

1  See  pamphlet  entitled,  "  The  Evidence  before  the  Committee  on  Interior 
Waters,  on  Petition  of  William  H.  Smith,  &c.,  &c.,  for  leave  to  build  a  Sluice- 
way from  Lake  Telos  to  Webster  Pond." 


222  APPENDIX. 

The  next  fall  more  trees  were  grubbed  up,  to  a  width  of 
from  forty  to  sixty  feet,  between  the  dam  and  Webster  Lake, 
and  a  channel  was  dug  between  the  dam  and  Telos  Lake,  ten  or 
fifteen  feet  wide  and  thirty  rods  long.  In  the  winter  of  1842 
more  work  was  done  below  the  dam,  the  digging  being  irregu- 
lar, and  more  to  guide  the  course  of  the  water  than  for  any 
other  purpose,  and  that  it  might  not  spread  over  too  wide  a 
surface.  The  statement  of  Springer,  in  his  "  Forest  Life  and 
Forest  Trees,"  page  204,  that  "  originally  the  canal  was  three 
hundred  rods  long  by  four  wide,  and  four  feet  deep,"  is  mislead- 
ing, and  does  not  seem  to  be  sustained  by  the  evidence. 

Telos  township,  and  with  it  the  cut  and  dam,  were  soon 
afterwards  sold  by  Roberts  to  Rufus  Dwinel,  of  Bangor.  The 
advantages  of  the  cut  became  apparent  at  once,  and  its  possessor 
determined  to  reimburse  himself  for  the  outlay  it  had  cost  him. 
Certain  persons  who  had  cut  logs  on  Chamberlain  Lake  were 
asked  to  pay  from  thirty-five  to  fifty  cents  per  thousand  feet  for 
the  privilege  of  driving  them  through  the  cut.  The  price  de- 
manded was  deemed  extortionate,  and  several  of  the  loggers, 
Cooper  &  Co.,  Leadbetter  of  Bangor,  Hunt  of  Oldtown,  and 
others,  refused  to  pay  them,  and,  it  is  claimed,  threatened  to  put 
their  logs  through  by  force.  Whether  any  such  threats  were 
really  made  should  seem  to  be  doubtful.  At  any  rate,  the 
pamphlet  heretofore  quoted  negatives  that  hypothesis.  How- 
ever, bound  to  protect  his  rights,  Dwinel  went  "  down  river," 
got  a  hundred  resolute  men,  armed  them  with  knives,  picks, 
handspikes,  and  axes,  and  put  them  on  guard  at  the  cut.  They 
blocked  up  the  outlet  with  hemlock  trees,  and  when  the  other 
loggers,  with  their  "  drivers,"  came  along,  they  were  surprised 
and  chagrined  to  find  themselves  outnumbered  and  powerless. 
Finally,  all  agreed  in  writing  to  pay  the  required  toll,  and  their 
portion  of  the  expense  of  the  hundred  guards,  except  Lead- 
better,  who  left  his  "  drive  "  in  Telos  thoroughfare.  This  little 
episode  is  known  as  the  "  Telos  War." 


TELOS   CA^AL.  223 

In  1847,  after  much  opposition,  a  charter  was  obtained  for 
the  Telos  Dam,  and  the  toll  now  allowed  for  passage  through  it 
is  twenty  cents  per  thousand  feet. 

For  much  of  the  information  contained  in  the  foregoing,  the 
writer  is  indebted  to  Calvin  Dwinel,  Esq.,  who  is  a  brother  of 
the  late  Rufus  Dwinel,  and  who  was  personally  on  the  scene,  and 
participated  in  the  events  described. 


University  Press  :  John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge. 


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